


Revenge Plans and Death Wishes

by GaleforceFish



Series: Naruto One-shots [4]
Category: Among Us (Video Game), Naruto
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), Biting, Blood and Violence, First Time, Happy Ending, Imposters versus an oblivious crew, Itachi makes Kisame is new pet, Kisame has a deathwish for some reason, M/M, Madaras methods of teaching are unorthodox, Minor Character Death, Obito is questioning his kinks, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sad Ending, Sadistic Madara, Submissive Obito, harsh punishments, to clarify - obito isn't happy and kisame is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28327389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaleforceFish/pseuds/GaleforceFish
Summary: In the past, Obito made a mistake costing him the right to solo missions on enemy ships. Meanwhile, new prodigy Itachi is leading a raid to prove he's ready for the next step. Both acting under Madara's orders, The Skeld is infiltrated by the three Uchiha imposters and is quickly turned into a ship wide bloodbath. Yet when the lights go out, Madara let's his true intentions with his former student known, and Itachi encounters a medic with a strange behavior.
Relationships: Hoshigaki Kisame/Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Madara/Uchiha Obito
Series: Naruto One-shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1233833
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Revenge Plans and Death Wishes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twistedlunatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twistedlunatic/gifts).



> As a gift to my friend Twistedlunatic, this is my first time writing violently graphic material. As always, he's a pillar to my confidence in exploring different writing genres and encourages my hobbies when half the people in my life would disapprove. It's not as violent as it could be, but tags are applied regardless. I hope this sort of fulfills the prompts you gave me. Enjoy!
> 
> Trigger Warning: Please read tags before continuing.

“Well, good for you, Obito. You’re not a total failure after all.”

Obito scowled at their leader with open distaste, never one to take an insult without rebuking with his own. “As far as I can tell, _Madara_ , I’ve been doing all the work while you’ve been sitting around on your ass. Remind me again who was it that came to who for help?”

Anyone could have reinstated his solo-running status, but naturally it was his old mentor who had reached out. And just like him, Madara wasn’t one to let an insult go unanswered. It was a wonder where Obito learned most of his attitude problems from. “Maybe I ought to remind you who it was that trained _you_ , Obito.”

Like he needed that reminder. Obito scoffed and glared outside the window, fuming in his seat with nowhere to vent it while his cousin, Itachi, sat silently like a good little soldier. The fact of the matter was, Obito had fallen out of their clan’s good graces. They were a unique species capable of mimicking the exact anatomy of their enemies; for imposters like Obito, it was their goal to steal away onto a ship and gather as much intelligence and technology as possible. Even better if they could kill everyone aboard the ship and take the vessel back to their own boarding crafts hidden throughout the galaxies. 

The thing was, Obito had been discovered a few months back and he’d been put on ‘probation’ or some shit like that. They had offered him a second chance under a trained professional so they could ‘keep an eye on him,’ but it also meant he had to work side by side new recruits. This time, it was Itachi. Lucky for him, Itachi wasn’t a rub it in your face kind of guy, so Obito didn’t have to worry about losing face in front of him. Not to mention he always did like his younger cousin.

They got along with each other well enough even though Itachi was quiet, and no one could tell what he was thinking half the time. A prodigy, their clan’s newest little upcoming celebrity, but Obito was determined to show he could do better. He’d show Madara soon enough. 

“Listen closely,” his old mentor began with a pointed look at Obito, “And pay attention. I will only go over this once and I expect a perfect performance.” 

Somehow, Madara had worked his way up to becoming the ship’s captain; no doubt he’d killed the last guy and merely taken his place. As it was, they were already aboard the newest ship _The Skeld_ , and Madara had already mapped every room and ventilation. As they were capable of shifting their forms, they could work their way through the larger vents, unnoticed by others, perform stealth assassinations, and escape before anyone was the wiser. 

Only thanks to Obito’s past blunder, the crews nowadays were aware that imposters were likely to find a way into ships and each member had an emergency button on them. It just made the job harder, but not impossible. Worst case scenario, they eject him into space and assume they won. These crews had no idea how many imposters could be on a ship, had no idea Obito’s kind didn’t need to breathe in space, and were essentially sheep just waiting for slaughter. Already he could already feel that familiar itch growing inside him, needing to feel the life leaving these infantile meat sacks.

This time, though, it was less likely he was going to get that itch scratched. Itachi was going to take the lead on this one – go figure that Madara wanted to boost his favorite pupil’s performance scores – while Obito took out the communication signals going in and out of _The Skeld_. After that, it was a free for all in the dark. 

Every crew member was assigned a color to correspond with their job titles. There was one person for everything, as space crews were already hard enough to operate without memorizing everyone’s name and job description. Generally, one ship could be powered by a team between 4-10 depending on its size. Plus, these moronic creatures assumed that the lower number of crew there was, the higher chance of finding the imposter. 

Idiots. 

Madara, naturally, wore the red of the captain, Itachi the black suit of security, and Obito the purple suit of communications. Effectively, they could shut down the entire ship and ensure no word got out even if they happened to be discovered. The only downside? These creatures, stupid as they were, had the strength to overcome the Uchiha clan on a one-on-one fight. Obito’s species traded strength for the ability to transform and move at heightened speeds. They were lethal and quiet. So long as they weren’t discovered, their chances for success were near absolute. 

“Remember, you aren’t to vent within sight of the crew. Don’t do anything to rouse suspicion, and do _not_ ,” he looked at Obito again, “Get caught.”

Yeah, yeah, don’t get caught. Fucking old man. 

Obito wisely said nothing but his eyes narrowed as he focused on something in the distance. They would be taking off soon from this shared spaceport, and he could already see the stars sparkling as if to welcome them. He wondered if any of those little orbs were hiding a drone from one of their motherships. The creatures they were soon to be riding with were so primitive, but their weapon systems were something to be desired. Funny how these soft and squishy do-gooders had such a knack for murder only to not utilize it. They were for defense only. Protection against the unknown. Extra security.

Had he mentioned they were morons?

“To your places. Go.” Madara dismissed them and turned his back, looking across his control panel like he was already envisioning their take-off. He, really, had the more difficult job. Learning a new flight mechanic overnight wasn’t exactly easy, but Madara had the most experience in doing so. He wasn’t captain for nothing. 

Obito left with Itachi at his side, walking together towards the communications room as it passed on the way to Itachi’s security office. Only now that they were out of Mr. Know-It-All’s earshot did Itachi feel like he could open up a little. “Might I ask a question?”

He really wanted to be snarky by telling this little hotshot that he just did, but somehow, he felt like a senpai talking to his kōhai. “Sure.”

“How were you discovered before?”

Fucking hell, was he never going to live this down? He gritted his teeth in anger as they passed through the shield room, remembering his downfall like it was yesterday. “I missed.”

“You missed.”

“Yeah, I missed. End of story.” He took out his keycard and swiped it against the door lock with a little more aggression than necessary. After the computer chewed him out for going too quickly, he managed to get the damn thing open. “Just don’t get cocky with your skills, keep your head on a swivel, and you’ll be fine.”

Itachi nodded wordlessly and followed Obito into his assigned room. There were machines lining the walls, flashing like a Christmas tree, and a desk in the corner. It felt more like a prison here than it did in their own brig. Obito hated doing background jobs like this; he much preferred to be front and center in the action. Their species got something of a high when successful murder was achieved. It’s what made them so good at what they did. 

He sat down in the office chair and spun around in a small circle before pausing it, watching Itachi head towards the door. “This isn’t about my redemption more than it is about your graduation. Madara is letting you rack up the numbers so that you can go on to solo missions.”

Itachi paused with his hand on the door release button to turn back to him. He never could quite tell what this kid was thinking, but that was customary for all imposters. They were brilliant at hiding their true intentions until the very last second. One minute they were your friend, the next they were using their tongue like a spear in your back. Not even in the Uchiha clan were you safe. Everyone was always out for themselves and true partnership was a luxury that very few ever got to experience.

“I won’t fail,” Itachi told him then left him alone. 

Well then, Obito wished him luck. So long as he could satisfy this itch by killing at least one member of the crew, he’d be happy. All it took was for one curious crewmember to slip into his communication room looking for an ‘ally’ when things got dark. Besides, if Itachi completed the mission, that mean Obito also did. That meant he could go back to solo missions as well. 

“Don’t fuck this up for me,” Obito muttered to himself, flicking his tongue across sharpened teeth. Soon they’d have lift off and all these sheep would be walking to their slaughter. He couldn’t wait.

**☙☽A Little While Later☾❧**

He really wished he had a window. It certainly would have made this trip less boring. There wasn’t even a damn book to read! Currently, he had his head laid back against his office chair, body lax against its less than stellar cushions, and his foot lazily spinning around in circles. He was well on his way to taking a nap if this plan wasn’t enacted soon.

By now, Itachi had already familiarized himself with the crew. Their numbers, their positions, their personalities, and anything he deemed worthy to know before their execution. Imposters had to know the tactics of their trade like the back of their hand. How many times had he done this on his own before? Being in a team was an embarrassment. Being under Madara was even worse. Sure, he might be deemed a god amongst their clan because he had a 100% success rate, but who the fuck cared about that? Obito bet if he dug in deep enough, he could discover some interesting skeletons in that asshole’s closet. 

He sighed wistfully, wishing someone would just walk into his room so he could have a little bit of entertainment before they went home. By now, he’d already set up a kill switch so that once the power was out, Obito could permanently remove all communication signals in or out of _The Skeld_ with except for their own transmissions. All he needed to do was push one little button and then be available for backup in case Itachi got caught. A liar, an alibi, whatever the little runt needed to be bailed out. But this was Itachi and he wouldn’t need any help. 

The door beeped and Obito sat up quickly, pretending to be busy until he realized who it was. Then he wilted back into his chair and resumed his circles. 

“Hard at work, I see,” Madara remarked, walking over to observe Obito’s computer as if he needed to be double checked. What, was Madara going to give him a gold start too? “You’ve gotten quicker since the last time we worked together.”

Obito rolled his eyes, stopping the chair and spinning the other way to counteract the dizziness he felt. “That was years ago, Madara. Give me a little credit.”

“You wish to be praised for something so simple?” His leader turned to him with an arched brow, “You’ll have to try a lot harder than that to hear me applaud you.”

“Like what? Suck your dick?” Obito retorted with a laugh. Fat chance, that. Madara was such a stickler for his rules and plans that he didn’t have time to fraternize. Obito would bet anything that Madara was still a virgin anyway. Who would ever want a piece of _that_? “I’m not looking for your approval, Madara. After Itachi finishes off this crew, I’ll be back to doing what I do best.”

“Failing?”

Obito glared at him. Fucking prick.

He didn’t get to say anything before the lights suddenly shut down, putting the room entirely in the dark. He couldn’t hear anything except for their shared breathing, calm and prepared for what was coming, though he swore he heard someone down the hall curse. Then, a heartbeat later, the backup generators for his office kicked in and all the machines hummed back to life. His was the only room that would be sent spare power from the reactor for situations where they would need to emit an SOS signal. Too bad Obito had no intention of sending one.

The room was lit only by the flashing lights of red, greens, blues, and yellowish-orange buttons. It put an eerie feel into the air, especially when matched against Madara’s red eyes. Why was he revealing his Uchiha traits right now? There might not be anyone else around, but the old man was always in character until the mission was complete.

Whatever, Obito had work to do. He brushed past his leader to activate his kill switch, ensuring that their business here would not be interrupted.

In the meantime, a heavy knock on the door stole Madara’s attention away. “Hey, you in there! Is everything up and working?”

Obito had a fucking _name_ , damn it, the least they could do was use it.

Madara answered instead, “Kotetsu, is that you?”

“Captain Madara?!”

“Yes,” Madara answered calmly, “I was doing a routine check when the power went out. Obito and I will be stuck in here until it comes back on, but the generator seems to have done its job. What’s caused the blackout?”

Obito could just imagine the guy standing at attention on the other side of the door. What an overachieving suck up. “Sir, we aren’t sure yet. Izumo is looking into it as we speak. I’ll report back to you here and let the others know.”

“Good. Meanwhile, we’ll be looking into alerting nearby ships and trying to get the doors back open. Stay vigilant.”

“Yes, sir!”

Obito scoffed to himself at the exchange. Even when he was a new trainee, he was never much of a ‘yes, sir, no, sir’ kind of person. As soon as his jamming signal went out, he straightened with a satisfied smile. It would take another ship many hours to even realize what was going on, and perhaps even days to get around his block. By then, they would have killed off the crew and made off with a new ship. Step one complete. 

“I think,” Madara’s steps echoed as they got closer, “Now is a good time for you and me to have a talk about your failures, my student.”

Jeez, a lecture? Surely, they could be doing something else aside from nagging and getting on Obito’s nerves. “What do you mean failures? I just sent the signal off, didn’t I?”

Madara’s hand fell against the table as he hovered close behind him, “Your little adventure with a certain member of a rival clan. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about that little blunder of yours?”

He’d heard about that, huh? Not many people had. Of course, Madara would have found a way to dig into Obito’s records and soak in all the details. He always had a knack of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Missed,” Madara said the word like it had offended him, leaning ever closer until his breath tickled the side of Obito’s neck. “I know I trained you to be a better imposter than that.”

Obito wheeled the chair away, rubbing his neck and feeling his face grow warm. It was probably from embarrassment from having his failure thrown back into his face. “It’s the truth.”

“Since when do you think you can lie to me?”

“Oh, fuck you, Mr. Perfect,” Obito snapped at him. “I said that’s what happened because that’s what happened.”

“ _Liar_.” The word was hissed in anger, stunning Obito at the shift in attitude. One moment Madara was glaring those red irises at him, the next he was taking Obito by the throat and throwing him against the wall. The chair rattled to the ground nearby, its wheels spinning uselessly as it fell on its side. “The Hatake clan specializes in seduction and you, my idiot student, _fell for it_. I trained you better than that. Were you so desperate for his empty promises that you let him go on purpose just for a taste of him?”

Obito flushed at the memory. He could see it so clearly, even now, the way Kakashi Hatake had come on to him. They knew what each other were the moment they crossed eyes. Two imposters from different clans on the same ship. There was a silent competition to stay out of each other’s way and see who could take out the most. A game, if you will. Obito had been completely enthralled by it, having the most fun he’d experienced during a mission in his life. To make matters worse, he _had_ let that insufferable yet attractive man into his body. He’d foolishly thought of even suggesting a partnership. 

Yet when it came down to it, Hatake had betrayed him and Obito didn’t have the heart to finish him off. He’d missed, but it had been on purpose. Rather than kill the other man for his deceit, he’d scarred his eye. 

His biggest failure, yet also his biggest adventure. 

Madara’s fangs flashed in the nearby blinking of a red light, adding to the sinister intentions he dug his fingers dug more sharply into Obito’s skin. “I never thought I’d have to train you on how to properly handle your more…natural instincts. You never had an issue with them before.”

He tugged at the grip, lifting his head and letting his own eyes change to challenge his leader. He’d never found someone worth experiencing those natural instincts to such an extent before Kakashi. Of course, he never had issue with them before. “There’s nothing you can teach me anyway, Madara. You’re one step away from being replaced as our clan’s favorite figurehead. In fact, you’re teaching your replacement right now.”

“You mean Itachi?” Madara chuckled darkly, “Yes, he’s an intelligent boy. Perhaps he will replace me one day, but it won’t be any time soon. An old dog can still teach new tricks and _your_ lesson begins now.”

Madara tossed Obito to the ground so hard that he actually slid on the tile floor. Then he walked to few steps over and placed his foot next to Obito’s head, a smirk growing on his face. “Though, if you lick my boot and beg my forgiveness for your continuous embarrassment as my student, I might let it slide.”

There was no way in all the hells that Obito was going to do that. He turned to the shoe next to him and spat, daring Madara to do something about it. “Apparently, you didn’t hear when I said, ‘fuck you, Mr. Perfect.’ Now who’s the one who doesn’t listen, _teacher_? Or are you starting to lose your hearing too?”

“Oh, Obito,” Madara began mockingly, “I’m very much going to enjoy this lesson with you. The first thing I’ll teach you is manners. Turn around.”

He gave Obito no time to disobey, going after him like they were going to fight. It surprised his student who wasn’t anticipating so quick an attack, and it turned into a wrestling match on the floor. There was nowhere for Obito to kick out or get a handle on his position before Madara was on him. 

His teacher wasn’t trying to put him in a lock either. This wasn’t about winning; it was about subduing. A few times Obito managed to get his wrist free and lash out, striking Madara across the face or shoving him away, but each time his teacher came back with a new grip. Against the odds, he was forced onto his stomach and his wrists caught behind him, bound by a thick rope-like material he hadn’t realized Madara was even carrying. Damn, he should have been paying more attention, but who would have expected Madara to come prepared for something like this? Who would have guessed that his own clan member would attack him on a live mission? 

“Let go!” Obito snapped, trying to twist around even as Madara got to his feet and starting to pull him across the room. “Damn you, old man, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Manners, Obito. You’re going to call me captain or master. Do you understand?”

“Like hell I’m-,”

An echoing slap cut him off, enough to vibrate of the walls of the room and make his face burn from the impact. Without pause, Madara threw him against one of the bolted metal shelves and tied his arms to it, effectively trapping him. Times like this, Obito wished he had more strength to break through the binding. He’d heard of some species in space snapping them like string. 

Yet there was no use dwelling over what he couldn’t control. Instead, he fell back on his usual and snarled up at the man who was looking at him like a piece of meat. 

“I asked you if you understood,” Madara said lightly though there was a threat of violence in his tone. “And I expect an answer from you.”

“…whatever.”

This time a backhand and Obito felt his lip split as it smacked against his tooth. It stung, a thin line of blood forming before a single drop fell down to his chin, but he’d been through far worse. 

Madara crouched down before him, “Try again.”

What was this? Was Madara just going to beat him to death if he didn’t start obeying him? This was a load of bullshit. A powerplay that Madara clearly needed in order to feel like he wasn’t letting his brilliant limelight fall dim. To show himself that he was still in command, and what better way to do it than humiliate a man who had lost his clan’s favor?

“Yes, _captain_ ,” he replied in a biting tone. There, he’d done as he was asked, didn’t he? “Now let me go.”

Madara barked a laugh like he’d just been told a joke. “Not yet, Obito, you still haven’t learned your lesson. I expect an apology from you for putting a black mark on my record. All of my students excel or die, and yet you are still here to flaunt your disappointments to the world.”

“I missed; I didn’t fail. I’m going to find that asshole and kill him the next chance I get.”

“You didn’t _miss_ , Obito. You never miss.” He reached forward, tugging at the zipper of Obito’s space suit. The ripping noise sounded so loud in the room as it fell open, stopping just at his hips. Beneath, Obito wore the typical clothing that all crew members were required to. A t-shirt with the station’s logo and sweatpants for breathable, easy movement. Although they never needed to go so in-depth with their disguises, Obito always had just in case. It had certainly helped him out in the past. 

Madara took it in for a moment before his eyes flickered back up to meet Obito’s. “Where’s my apology, boy?”

For a long moment, Obito debated killing him. Their species could kill another with their tongue, just like a scorpion with their stinger. He could take out their clan’s idol in less than a heartbeat and be done with this entire charade. If only he didn’t know that the entire Uchiha clan would have his head for it. While they weren’t exactly the most loyal to each other, they wouldn’t stand for having someone like _Madara_ be killed by one of their own. He was too valuable and Obito was trash in comparison. 

“Go ahead and beat me then, old man,” Obito denied him, sitting straighter as if to make himself appear more confident. “I’ve felt more pain being thrown out into space than I have from your weak attempt at slapping.”

“ _Manners_.” Madara hit him again, this time nailing him hard enough in the cheekbone that Obito swore he felt it bruise already. Then Madara retreated to his desk where he dug through the desk, searching until he found a letter opener. While it was more commonly used to open pods containing documents sent by other ships, it was sharp enough to be a weapon if needed. 

Holy shit. Was Madara going to kill him?!

Obito balked as he realized that he would be helpless to defend himself. He might get hunted for killing Madara, but no one would question Madara for killing _him_. “Whoa now,” he began with an uneasy breath, easing his legs up and pushing into the shelf. It didn’t budge, of course, but worth a try. “There’s no need for that, Mad- er, captain.”

Any attempt to kick out at him was met with a simple deflection until Madara pushed himself closer, too far inside his reach for Obito to do anything. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he eyed the knife warily, watching as Madara ran it lightly down the front of his shirt. “Oh, now you have manners?”

“I’ve always had them, you- uh, look, can we put that down?”

“Aren’t you going to apologize?”

And admit that he let Kakashi go on purpose in hopes of seeing him? No, no way in hell. Obito might be an idiot sometimes, but he wasn’t that stupid. Plenty of Uchiha would kill him if they knew what his intentions had been all along. Madara was amongst them. “I told you, I didn’t miss.”

Madara caught his shirt and yanked him forward, the knife digging dangerously close to his abdomen. Obito didn’t dare take too deep a breath. “I told you to stop lying to me.”

In one flush movement, he took hold of the space suit and sliced through it, cutting it open like he was freeing Obito from some sort of cocoon. The thick, plastic-like material fell from his arms, his torso, and down his legs before Madara angrily threw them aside. Obito was at a loss of what was going on. Did Madara plan on throwing him into space too? The suit had always acted like an incubator, keeping him warm enough until one of their kind could sweep in and rescue him. Without it, he risked facing freezer burns, although even from that he’d still survive. 

He only realized Madara’s true intentions when he dropped the knife out of reach and tucked himself closer, pushing his knees under Obito’s legs and placing his hands on his hips, digging his claws just beneath the hem of his pants. “Why are you protecting him, Obito? Was it because he made you feel good? I assure you; he isn’t the only one capable of that.”

“Madara-!”

Obito gasped as Madara tugged the pants down, exposing just enough to reach down and take him in a grip that was much too hard. His arms pulled on the ropes, but he couldn’t get his body to go anywhere that Madara didn’t want it to. He whimpered as that grip tightened painfully and his legs kicked uselessly in attempt to get himself away. “Madara- stop!”

“Lesson one is manners, Obito. Did you forget what I told you to call me?”

“Captain!” Obito released the title, arching his back like it could help pull himself out of that deathlike grip. He kicked his feet uselessly behind Madara, pushing on the tile yet going nowhere. “Please, it hurts!”

“That isn’t what I want to hear, boy,” Madara leaned dangerously close to his ear, his long tongue sliding down Obito’s neck as his true form was slowly revealing itself. 

Obito felt his body begin shaking under the overwhelming realization that he was no longer in control. He had somehow allowed Madara to get the better of him, never once thinking that his teacher would do such a thing as this. Even in the past with their training, Madara had never come on to him in such a manner. This was entirely unexplored territory and Obito had no idea how far his teacher was willing to go. But considering his had a tight grip on Obito’s cock, he had a pretty good idea.

“Please!” He said again, more like a whimper as Madara’s hand twisted slightly, sending spears of agony reverberating through him. “Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry he got away. I’m sorry about making you look bad. Please, captain, let go!”

Finally, Madara did. The relief that hit him was enough to cause Obito to sink a few inches, panting like he’d been running. His cock throbbed as it finally felt something other than pain, and Obito tried to pull his legs up to cover himself from being take advantage of again. 

“There,” Madara said mockingly, running his touch over the top of Obito’s thighs as if to comfort him. Yet when Obito looked up, all he saw was his teacher running his tongue over his lips like some sort of hungry predator. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He was insane. His teacher was _insane_. Obito shivered under those red eyes and pressed his lips firmly together to avoid voicing his thoughts aloud. The last thing he wanted was for Madara to put his hands on him again. 

“On to the next lesson, I think,” Madara continued, looking down on Obito’s body with growing interest. It was giving him a sinking feeling. “Obedience.”

Obito felt that like another slap. “Obedience?” he asked, fingers tightening on the shelves since he had nowhere else to put them. “I’m not a dog.”

“Yet you let that Hatake touch you like you were a bitch in heat. How did he do it, Obito? How did he get you to roll over and submit?”

He’d been sweet and kind. Gentle even. Obito was so used to the roughness of his own clan and those who answered acts of compassion with violence. Kakashi had made him feel light and happy. He’d encouraged Obito’s softer side that he kept buried under years of stoicism, and he’d made Obito laugh in a way that made him feel young and innocent again. 

Then he’d taken it all away in a single act of betrayal that left a permanent scar on his heart. A scar that Madara seemed to very keen on reopening. 

Obito turned his face away as a shame filled him. How could he have been so foolish to believe an enemy’s words? He hated to admit it, but Madara was right. He knew better than that. 

“My poor student,” Madara teased him, dipping his head down to push his lips on Obito’s neck. “You always were an emotional child. It’s no wonder the Hatake’s prized killer was able to get his grips on you.”

“Fuck that,” Obito muttered, anger stirring in the pit of his stomach. “I’m going to kill him.”

“As you are now, you’ll just end up crawling into his bed again like some desperate whore. I’ll make it so if he ever touches you again, you won’t feel the warmth of his empty promises.”

“…how?”

“ _Obedience_.” Madara nipped his skin lightly and pulled away to grab the knife again. This time, he sliced at the ropes on Obito’s arms, freeing him and letting the blood flow back into his limbs. Then he retreated back to sit in Obito’s office chair, toying with the knife in hand, and watched as Obito rolled his arms. “Come here.”

Once more using such a final tone to his voice. Obito moved to stand, to obey the order. If Madara was telling him the truth and could teach him how to avoid Kakashi’s advances, it would help in the future. If Obito could see this situation as taking advantage of Madara’s experience, he could follow that old man’s stupid demands. Plus, it would just be for one more mission. Itachi was on the move as they sat in this room and he was a quick kid. They’d be homebound soon. 

He barely got a step before the knife lodged itself into the ground by his foot. That had been far too dangerously close, and it gave him pause. 

Madara was grinning at him, all sharp teeth and danger. “Crawl.”

His jaw fell as he gasped, not sure he heard that right. Madara really did think he was a dog, didn’t he? “You’re joking.”

“Do it,” Madara demanded, “Or the next punishment I give you will be the removal of something you’ll surely miss.”

Right, well, no more threats needed there. Obito quite liked all his appendages right where they were, and he wasn’t foolish enough to doubt Madara a second time.

He fell to his knees, heat pouring into his face as he acted out the obedient mutt that Madara wanted. Did the room get bigger in the past few minutes? Why was it taking so long to crawl over to the man who was enjoying this far too much? This was utterly embarrassing and Obito had never wanted to go running out of the room more than he did right now. 

And yet he still wasn’t fighting back. What happened to all his fire from earlier? It was like Madara was snuffing it out of him and replacing it with his own venom. 

Madara lifted his foot and caught Obito’s shoulder, effectively stopping him just before he got too close. He stood once more, opened up his own spacesuit, and let it fall in an undignified pile on the floor. Obito once more felt a sinking feeling, realizing what his face was level with, and turned away to look at something else. Anything else. The monitors blinking in the dimly lit room, the way the shadows played havoc with his mind as it formed watchful shadows on the wall, realizing that those shadows were still making him witness Madara’s movements. 

His teacher sat down again, leaning back into the chair, “Come here, Obito.”

He hesitated, trying to think of a different option. There was no escaping this place as the doors were locked, and he was very certain Madara wouldn’t give him the time to get them open. There was no overpowering him either. “Do I have to?”

Even as he turned towards his teacher, he knew better than to have asked that. Madara wanted his obedience and wasn’t going to settle for less. Even without the knife, he still posed a threat that Obito wasn’t really wanting to tempt. Even now his dick still ached with the ghost of Madara’s hand squeezing him, reminding him that his teacher wasn’t above using violence to get his way.

Steeling himself, he crawled forward the rest of the way until his chest pushed between Madara’s knees. Assuming what the other man wanted, Obito pushed Madara’s shirt up and put his lips against the man’s stomach – at least to what he could reach. When he heard no complains or corrections, he continued. Opening his mouth to lick at his skin before placing a kiss there, putting his arms at Madara’s waist and pulling him just a little closer so he could reach more. 

Obito would be the first to admit that this wasn’t what he was expecting when walking onto the ship this morning. This entire trial for Itachi was supposed to be routine. Obito shut off communication, maybe killed a straggler here or there, they take the ship back, and he finally got that Uchiha council off his back. Madara would vouch that he was a decent assassin again, and he could go off on his own once more. 

Go off and hunt Kakashi. That bastard. 

“Are you still thinking of him?” Madara asked, causing Obito to flinch. That seemed to be enough of an answer. “What did he to do in order to fill your mind with thoughts of him? Did he kiss your skin like you’re doing now?”

Obito remembered the first time he’d let that man put his hands on him. Kakashi had been hesitant and slow, much like how Obito was being right now. Careful. Timid. Shy. _Lies_. 

Madara’s hands fell to Obito’s hair, gently dragging his nails through the soft, dark strands. Enjoying the feel, Obito’s eyes closed and he tucked his head lower to Madara’s hips, nipping at the more sensitive skin there and enjoying the deep inhale of Madara’s appreciation. The slight dig of Madara’s nails against his scalp. Kakashi had been gentle like that too.

“Did he fill your head with sweet nothings? Promises he had no intention of keeping to make you feel good? Loved even?”

Kakashi had complimented him on his work. His quick kills, his expert targeting. He’d praised Obito on being one of the best he’d seen in the business, and he’d made Obito want to feel more. He’d made Obito want to _be_ more. Anything to hear his name on Kakashi’s lips and see that smile when the other man looked at him. 

Nails dug deeper and Obito hissed as he was pulled away sharply, forced to look up into the face of pure jealousy. No, that couldn’t be right. It was the room making Madara appear more sinister than normal. “I believe you mentioned something along the lines of sucking me off earlier.”

The pit in his stomach grew. “That had been a joke, Mad- captain.”

“And yet I’m willing to bet anything that Kakashi offered you the same. Show me, Obito. Use the skills he provided to you and let me see what he’s taught you.”

Madara couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t be. This was taking it much too far. And even as he thought that, his eyes fell to where Madara was lifting his hips, tucking his own sweatpants down until they stopped halfway down his thighs. 

For all the years that Obito had trained under Madara in the past, he’d never seen this much of the man before. Already half attentive with interest, thick, and big enough that Obito already knew he was going to have problems. Kakashi had been big, but he’d been more length than girth. Madara…was an entirely different package. 

As if he needed help, Madara took himself in hand and offered himself a few strokes mere inches away from Obito’s face. “Open your mouth.”

Even if Obito wanted to pull away, those fingers were so tangled deep in his hair that he wasn’t going anywhere. He glanced up, hoping that Madara would laugh and say never mind, but he got no such mercy there. His teacher was serious. _Dead_ serious. As in Obito was going to _be_ dead if he didn’t hurry up and do as Madara wanted. 

Holy shit. 

A mix of fear and something else Obito refused to identify hit him all at once before he steadied himself to obey. He replaced Madara’s hand with his own, trying to pretend he had even a semblance of command here, and let his tongue lean out to lick across the tip of him. 

Sadly, he wasn’t as grossed out as he thought he’d be. He angled Madara’s cock up more and dipped his head lower, tasting him at the base while the length of his teacher fell across his cheek. He dragged his touch over skin that was soft and delicate, vulnerable. Let his lips press against him and suck lightly before moving slightly more and more towards upward. 

After a moment, Madara didn’t feel the need to hold him so tightly. His hand turned more encouraging again while he lifted his shirt up more to watch at a better angle. Only when Obito laid the tip of him into his mouth, closed his lips around his teacher, and sucked on him did Madara offer the briefest moan. 

Why? Why did that make Obito feel good? Like Obito was doing something right by being forced to do this? It was making him feel the same way as when Kakashi had praised him. Warm and endeared. He dared a glance up and shivered when he saw those red and black patterned eyes on him. It made him want to give Madara something to _really_ look at. The same high that imposters felt when they felt the life leave an enemy. Madara was scratching his itch.

Yet Madara had called him a failure. A failure? Says the one who was really enjoying getting his dick sucked right now. Fuck this old man. If he wanted to see a failure, he was going to be disappointed. Obito was going to make him regret saying those words.

Renewed with resolve, he adjusted slightly then took more of this teacher’s length into his mouth. He wanted to give himself time to get used to how thick Madara was, ease him gently further. Let his throat grow accustomed to how much Madara filled him and learn how much he could take. 

Madara, as _fucking always_ , seemed to think his ideas were better. 

Whether to punish Obito or because he was an impatient asshole, Madara took a better grip of Obito’s hair and forced him to swallow everything by jerking his hips up. Obito took far too much of him at once and choked, trying not to cause Madara pain while also trying to breathe against the intrusion. His throat spread at the intrusion, burning as the cock slid deep and Obito was forced to hold it there.

His teacher released a large sigh of delight, forcing Obito to hold him there for a brief moment before letting him pull back with a cough. Obito had barely caught his breath before Madara took his dick and directed it towards his mouth with the demand, “Again.”

“I-I need a m-moment-,”

“ _Again_.”

Fuck. 

Obito tried to take him, but as Madara’s thickness was forced itself into his throat another time, he choked again. Obito might be willing to do a lot of things for certain people, but this was more than he could take. He pulled back, despite the harsh grip on him, and coughed as tears stung his eyes. 

His teacher seemed to take this as a sign of disobedience and slapped Obito hard for his troubles. So hard that it forced Obito back on his hands, away from the chair. He was still trying to catch his breath and scramble away when Madara stood and double fisted his hair, dragging his body up and back to his cock. “Open your fucking mouth, boy.”

“Madara, wait-,”

Refusing, Madara gripped his jaw and forced him into obedience. As soon as Obito cried out at the pain from the hold, Madara thrust himself back inside. 

Obito’s eyes stung with tears as Madara abused his mouth, repetitively forcing his member deep into Obito’s throat and holding it there for agonizing moments before letting him take a breath and repeating the process. A slow pace and hard to handle as his throat stretched to accommodate his entire length. He pushed at Madara’s thighs, moaned around the intrusion when he couldn’t speak. The few seconds where Madara allowed him a breath were so small that he’d barely gasped for air before his mouth was being filled again. 

Mixtures of saliva and precum dripped down his chin as the cock pushed in and out of his lips. Even worse, he could feel himself growing hard from this treatment. How fucked up was that? He was getting turned on while being face fucked by his own teacher. Kakashi had been so sweet to him and it had led to one of the best sexual experiences of Obito’s life. How – _why_ – was his body reacting the same to Madara’s cruelty?

He shivered at the chills his body was experiencing and whined his pleas against Madara’s wet cock. It only encouraged his teacher to continue and increase the pace in which he fucked. Madara ignored Obito’s needs in pursuit to satisfy his own, panting as he watched every bit of Obito’s struggle on his knees. The sadistic smile that curled on his face as his tongue flicked out against his lips. Fuck, he was really enjoying this, wasn’t he? The bastard. 

“When I cum in you,” Madara growled at him, sounding more like an animal than anything else, “You better swallow it all.”

He certainly hoped his teacher was used to disappointment. 

It took a few more painful thrusts before Madara curled slightly, tucking Obito against him and forcing his semen down his raw and aching throat. And despite himself, Obito did try his best to keep it there. What other choice did he have when Madara’s spasming body was gripping him so tightly and forcing him to swallow it all?

Yet the second Madara’s grip loosened, Obito jerked away from him and collapsed to his hands, coughing and spitting what was daring to come up. His body was shivering as he tried to steal air back to his lungs and clear his throat at the same time. Specks of white and clear dribbled down his chin and fell into an ample pile on the tile between his hands. He had to hold himself back from gagging as he felt it leave him.

Meanwhile, his teacher plopped himself back down into the seat, putting a hand on himself and stroking the last of his release into his hand. Obito watched him steadily, ready to scurry away if Madara came after him again. Honestly, he wondered if he could though. Madara’s gaze held him captive like some sort of predator staring down its prey. Never before had Obito felt like he was so easily immobilized just from someone’s eyes. 

Then, before either of them could comment on what just occurred, a knock came at the door. Obito stayed silent, afraid that his voice would be affected by the abuse it had just received. The last thing he wanted was some nosey crew member to ask him if he was okay. Obito didn’t need that embarrassment considering he was already humiliated enough right now. 

“Madara, Obito, it’s me.”

The prodigy returns.

Madara was kind enough to answer, and damn him for sounding so calm. “Go on, Itachi.” 

“Two of seven remain. I know where one is, but the other might still be wandering. How are you two faring?” 

Obito glanced back to Madara who had a sick smile on his face. He better not be able to tell Itachi the truth. “We’re getting by. I noticed no one has called an emergency meeting.”

“Yes,” Itachi agreed, “I have been careful. I imagine in thirty minutes or so, we’ll be ready for the final stage.”

“Good work. Once you have completed your tasks, restore the power and meet us in the storage room. We’ll make quick work of cleaning everything at once.”

“Understood.” 

They heard his footsteps leave the doorway and everything fell silent once more. Obito had barely reined himself back from telling Itachi to unlock the doors _now_. Seems he was stuck here a little longer. 

“Lesson three is next.”

“Let me guess,” Obito began, his throat raw but still capable of speaking. He cleared it again, ignoring the sting, before continuing, “We’re going to practice isolation. You stay on one side of the room, and me on the other.”

Madara chuckled at what they both knew wasn’t going to happen. He stepped around the cautious Obito towards the shelf and picked up the longer pieces of rope that were still useable. “Loyalty.”

Obito started at that, climbing to his feet and ready to come to his own defense. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve always been loyal to the Uchiha.”

“By sleeping with an enemy?” Madara asked, testing the rope and drawing closer to him. “Turn around, Obito.”

“No,” he told him firmly, stepping back. “You’re going to tie me up again and I’d much prefer you didn’t.”

Madara huffed at him, “Of course, I am. It is a teacher’s duty to discipline his students, and you have certainly crossed the line.”

With a hand to his throat, Obito eyed the rope and took another step back. “I’m sure you punished me enough.”

“That’s not for you to say. From what I can tell from that bulge in your pants, you enjoyed that last ‘punishment’ quite a lot. I’ll need to monitor that to ensure you understand the full depth of your offense.”

“Madara- I mean, captain, I promise I get it. Itachi will return again any moment and-,”

“Then I suggest if you don’t want him aware, you do as I say. One way or another Obito, this is going to happen. Now, unless you want me to repeat your lesson in obedience with a harsher example, turn around.”

Obito took everything back from what he thought when Madara first came into this room. He’d much rather have a nagging teacher lecturing him than whatever this was turning into. At the same time, his body was having a very different thought. As he looked at the ropes in Madara’s hands, his own dick jerked with an excited lift, shaming him with thoughts he’d much rather not be having. 

He turned away from Madara, disgusted with them both, and clenched his fists at his side. 

Behind him, Madara chuckled and reached around to pull Obito into his chest, dipping his lips down to nip at him gently and causing his skin to crawl with chills. “Relax, Obito. This is just going to be one more reason for you to hate Kakashi Hatake. After all, if he hadn’t touched you, there wouldn’t be a need for this.” 

Madara licked just below his jaw before biting his earlobe. More chills, this time slithering down his body in time with Madara’s touch to press against his erection. “If he hadn’t stained you with name, I wouldn’t have to cleanse you.”

So, this was all Kakashi’s fault?

Madara moved his attention to under Obito’s shirt and lifted it, urging it over his head and throwing it to the floor elsewhere. It was lost to the shadows of the room. Then he guided Obito’s hands back, binding his wrists one over the other first. He couldn’t quite tell what was taking Madara so long, but he seemed to mess with the rope a lot. He stopped every few inches upwards as he braided the rough material into different shapes all the way up his arms. Was bondage some sort of hobby of his? Scratch that, Obito didn’t want to know. 

It must have used most of the ropes to do because Madara didn’t bother tying his legs or anything else. However, he did tug at Obito’s pants again, letting them fall to the ground. He stepped into the center of his fallen clothes, allowing Obito to pull his legs out and leaving his boots as the only article of clothing left. Guess it didn’t matter, it didn’t cover anything that Madara wanted.

“On your knees,” Madara whispered against his ear. 

It succeeded in causing a shiver to run down Obito’s spine and he released a shaky breath before obeying. Madara went with him, clinging to his body as they lowered themselves. Then Madara went a step further, pushing between Obito’s shoulder blades until he was bent so far that his cheek pressed against the tile. It left him in a vulnerable state of submission, offering every bit of his body to be subject to torment.

This was where they stood now, huh? Obito, the tied-up student that was about to be fucked over – literally – by his teacher. There were worse things, he supposed. He could be freezing his ass off in space, ejected by a crew. He could be fighting for his life against someone who discovered him. 

He could be with Kakashi again. 

“Did he fuck you, Obito? I can’t imagine someone like you topping someone as professional as him.”

Obito flinched at the verbal backhand that everyone was a better imposter than him and pressed his forehead into the tile, desperate to hide the flush of his cheeks. Sadly, he _had_ been the one to let Kakashi enter him. He’d been in the mindset of just wanting to make Kakashi happy, just as happy as Kakashi had made him. In hindsight, that was exactly what that bastard had wanted. Act all sweet and innocent, let Obito fall for him completely, then sweep the rug from under him. Such a predictable move and yet he’d fallen for it anyway. He’d been such a fool. An utterly blind and arrogant fool.

Madara’s hands roamed over his ass, lightly scraping his nails and leaving behind puffy pink marks. His thumbs teased through the center, threatening to pull him open for Madara’s viewing pleasure, only to meet at his tailbone and glide across his hips. “You know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you?”

The inevitable, he supposed. There wasn’t much else Madara could be planning by putting him in a exposed position such as this. “Yes.”

Madara slapped him again, stinging his right cheek with an audible, cocky laugh. He sounded like someone who was gloating over a rigged competition. “If you are so quick on the uptake with me, how did you fail with him?”

Because Kakashi hadn’t made him feel like a whore when being used. Only Obito couldn’t say that because it would just fuel Madara’s already burning fire to ‘teach him a lesson.’ So, he came up with another reason, “Maybe because Kakashi was gentler whereas you seem incapable of it.”

“Gentle,” Madara scoffed at Obito’s weak attempt to come back at him. “You expected me to be kind? You’re always so feisty, I assumed that’s what you wanted in return. I can show you gentle…”

Somehow, Obito didn’t believe a word of it. Especially since his ass still stung where he was struck, and his throat was still raw. If Madara continued on his current trajectory, Obito wasn’t going to be able to sit for a week. 

“Move your legs a little more. That’s it, good boy. Now relax and let me take care of you,” Madara cooed at him in a way that was sure to be meant as ‘gentle’ but sounded more mocking. He moved Obito’s knees further apart, arching his back slightly so he could be adjusted into a more desired position. Then Obito bit his lip and prepared for the worst. 

Which wasn’t what he got at all. 

Sure, Madara pulled as his cheeks and rubbed his thumb over Obito’s entrance, but what went inside wasn’t his fingers. 

It wasn’t his dick either. 

“Oh-!” Obito gasped, feeling the slick movements of Madara’s more alien tongue press in. It started out like a thin whip, teasing just inside him before seeking more inner warmth. The further it went, the thicker his tongue, the more his hole stretched to accommodate. “Oh- wait- what are you- ah…”

He wasn’t sure what word was trying to form in his mind first as Madara flicked around inside him. He hadn’t been stretched more than two fingers worth and the tongue was so deep. It reached into places no one had ever touched before, striking nerves that had no clue how to react. Madara masterfully rubbed against him, curling the tip inside his body and seeking out different areas of his prostate until he found a spot that had Obito moaning and curling his toes. 

“Oh, yes…yeess, _fuck_ ,” Obito pushed his face harder into the cool tile, trying to shove his ass back into Madara’s touch. It felt good. It felt really fucking good. Strange how Madara was the one doing it and how quickly he’d flipped. It should be impossible for someone to make him feel this good while also being one of the sole reasons for his ire. 

And when Madara got a little closer so he could reach around, taking Obito’s dick into his hand to begin jerking him off, Obito swore he saw more lights than just the blinking dials of the room. He couldn’t do anything to make Madara do more, leaving him a desperate, tied up dog that moaned for him, “Please, Madara… ah, ahh, captain… more, ah-! There, mm faster. Jerk me off faster…”

Amazingly, Madara complied to his pleas. His hands worked Obito’s length from pushing at the crown, twisting as he glided down, then rubbing at the base. Using his own slick to coat his cock and allow for a better hand job. Obito’s legs shook from the pleasure his body was enjoying, joined by the turning of his stomach as a familiar pressure grew. If Madara wanted to start teaching him by using _these_ methods, he was all for it. 

Obito reached back on himself where he could reach, just barely brushing the pads of his fingers against Madara’s tongue as it wiggled and pressed inside him. He could cum like this. He wanted to. Biting his lip, he let his mind go blank as he moaned and shook from the very pleasing torment. It was similar to when he had been with Kakashi, only the Hatake had been fingering him and whispering the sweetest things into his ear. Between those memories and Madara’s current ‘lesson,’ Obito was so ready to let that wave of bliss ride him to the end.

Until Madara’s grip turned rough again and squeezed much too tightly. 

“Ah!” Obito bucked against him, crying out as all the growing enjoyment came to an abrupt halt. “Stop- what are you doing?!”

His teacher gave him no explanation as both hands moved to his crotch, pleasuring him with one hand and not allowing him to cum with the other. He could still feel that sweet release so very close to taking him, yet it was unachievable. Any time he tried to pull away, Madara would increase the hold and Obito would wilt from the hurt. Still Madara’s tongue ran over the most tender part of him and sent waves of immense pleasure vibrating across his body that had no exit. 

“Don’t- _please_ ,” Obito began to beg, his eyes beginning to water again from all the combined emotions his body was going through. “Please, it hurts…Y-You said…”

Only then did Madara retract his tongue with an insulting chuckle. He bent forward, pressing his body against Obito’s curved frame, and ghosted his sharp teeth over his damp skin. “Did you forget this was a punishment?”

“Please,” he pleaded again, hiding his face though it was impossible. Madara knew exactly what he was doing. “Please, anything, _anything_ , master, please, just let me cum. I’m there, please, I’m so close, please, _please_!”

Something in his tone – or maybe it was because he used the term Madara most wanted to hear – made Madara suddenly decide to act. Already hard again, he pushed his cock to Obito’s entrance and thrust in quick, giving him no time to adjust or get comfortable. 

Obito went to scream from it, but Madara’s covered his lips, letting only an agonized moan escape through his fingers. Then he fucked Obito hard, relentlessly, forcing a pace while keeping a sturdy grip on his student’s dick, refusing to let him feel any sort of relief. 

“You deserve this,” Madara growled as he pressed his face close to Obito’s. “Letting that Hatake bastard inside you. If you hadn’t resorted to being his desperate little whore, I wouldn’t have to be so rough with you. If you wanted to be fucked so badly, any Uchiha could have helped you fill that urge. How _dare_ you let someone else touch you? You are _my_ student. You represent _me_ when you succeed or fail, you little shit. How dare you submit to another?”

It was all Obito could do to stay conscious. On one hand it felt like he was being ripped open and about to burst. Tears streamed down his cheeks and vanished over Madara’s fingers; his body was trembling so badly that he had no idea how he wasn’t collapsing yet. Yet the pressure in his gut was _still_ building and wave upon wave was rolling over him with no escape route. 

In his mind, he begged for release. Begged Madara to let him go, to forgive him, anything. Yet he was also answered with Madara’s grunts and pants, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh as he was forced to take that monstrous cock over and over. It felt like he was being split open or that the fires of pain and pleasure were going to consume him until there was nothing left. He felt Madara’s lengthy tongue over his neck, cheek, and the rumble of mocking laughter as humiliation bit him to the core. 

“Loyalty,” Madara told him in a dangerous whisper. “You are a Uchiha, not some prostitute to bend over when another bats their eyelashes your direction. Do you understand?”

His hand moved from Obito’s lips and it was all he could do to not sob. “Y-Yes, I’m sorry. Never again, master, please…”

Then, all at once, Madara loosened his grip over his cock only to jerk him off in a frantic, messy pace. Obito lost all control of his body – not that he had much to begin with. His broken cry was echoed across the room like it was ripped from his body by some unseen force and his body climaxed with enough strength it sent him crashing to the ground. He landed in a pile of his own mess, trembling and weak; he didn’t even register Madara doing the same behind him, covering his ass and lower back with jets of his own semen. It seemed his master wanted to see Obito covered in his seed rather than let it fill him, or perhaps this was a mercy. Obito would be better served to help Itachi’s ship wide cleanup if he didn’t have cum leaking down his legs at every step.

Madara hovered over him for what seemed like forever, panting and dripping sweat onto his student who couldn’t even move. It was like he wanted to capture the image in his mind for later use. Old men had to have something to picture during their lonely nights alone, he supposed. Obito, as his mind slowly returned, hoped that was the case. He hoped Madara got a good look because he was _never_ going to see it again. Pleasure, pain, and weakness soon gave out to disgrace and fury. 

This was all Kakashi’s fault. 

If that bastard hadn’t caused Obito to lose his focus, this wouldn’t have happened. _None_ of this would. At least, that’s the lesson Obito was getting here. 

There was a tug on the ropes over his arms and Obito was dragged backward to uncomfortably rest against Madara’s chest. Then, to add to his punishment, Madara bit down hard on his shoulder, sinking those razor-sharp teeth in deep. Obito didn’t even have the strength to do more than whimper at it, feeling warm blood spill from his teacher’s lips and down his chest. He felt Madara lick at it, like some sort of bloodthirsty animal marking its victim, then dumped him back to the floor. 

“Now that you’ve learned your lessons,” Madara began, stepping away from him like moving was so simple a task while Obito couldn’t even feel his legs. Damn him! “It’s time to see if you can put what you’ve learned to the test. You’ll get your privileges for solo missions back, Obito, but if you don’t redeem yourself by killing the man who turned you into this failure, I will return and punish you again. And next time, I won’t be going easy on you. Is this understood?”

That was going _easy_?!

“Yes…captain…” Obito answered quietly. He was in no mood for any sort of biting retorts or to even fight back. He just wanted to rest. 

Madara retrieved the knife to free Obito once more of his bondages. “Now, is there anything else that Hatake did to you that you’d like for me to help you erase?”

Weakly, Obito shook his head no. He didn’t even bother getting himself up off the floor. 

Luckily, this time his teacher didn’t mind, and he left him alone to slowly recover at his own pace. He merely fixed his clothes back to his body and threw his spacesuit over one shoulder. “Itachi should be finished soon. Get dressed, Obito, unless you want him to see you like that.”

The words ‘fuck you’ were just on the end of his lips, but he refrained from saying them and replaced it with a sigh. There wasn’t even a bathroom to this place to help him get cleaned up. Shakily, and doing his best not to collapse again, Obito used the shredded remains of his own spacesuit to clean most of the mess before pulling his clothes back on. Eventually, though, he sunk back to his knees and found a wall to lean against while they waited. A wall that was as far away from Madara as he could manage – much to the older Uchiha’s amusement. 

In truth, he only had one thing in his mind that kept him a bit smug despite his obvious exhaustion. He’d successfully lied to Madara, and that old man didn’t even realize. Kakashi _had_ done one more thing, but he’d be damned if he was going to let his teacher take that away too. It was the one thing he was going to let fuel him into murdering the man who’d given him everything only to steal it away. 

Kakashi had kissed him. And Obito was going to see him dead for it.

**☙☽A Few Hours Earlier☾❧**

Itachi cradled the dead man to his chest as he dragged him into a more isolated part of the ship. He was careful to let all the man’s leakage fall onto his spacesuit to avoid leaving a trail from the outer hallway into his security room. It had soaked into his suit, covering him like he belonged in some sort of slaughterhouse…well, then again, right now he supposed he did.

He dumped the body in a corner, letting it collapse with a disturbing crumpling sound. At first, he’d stabbed the engine mechanic, but the crew member was built sturdier than he realized. Itachi had finished him off by snapping his neck, remembering that satisfying pop when the bones broke and the man had went limp in his arms. He always wondered if the others found their work to be just as rewarding. Itachi was good at what he did, and he enjoyed it. Like finding money in your clothes while washing them, or rewarding yourself with a cool, fresh drink after a nice workout.

Back inside his own room, he changed into a cleaner pair of clothes and a new black suit. Then checked his appearance in the mirror, wiping the access blood off his cheek. Good thing that as security, no one could gain entry this room except for him and the captain. And, as the captain was a member of his own clan, there was no concern over being found. 

Next, he supposed, came the medic. The med bay was just down the hall from him and would be opportune for the newest target. 

Itachi quickly cleaned up any specks of blood outside his doors he missed, tossing the rag onto the man whose blood it was, and began walking down the hall towards his intended victim. Emergency lights, pulling from a smaller ship battery that lasted only a few hours, were the only thing to light up where he walked. Combine that with a flashlight attached around his belt, he could walk easily without bumping into anything. 

As expected with such a small crew, only one man was inside. The room was dimly lit by a single, battery operated lamp on the table next to their medic who was sitting in a short rolling stool, spastically clicking on the keyboard to his computer like it was going to magically turn back on. Itachi began plotting his next move. As he was now, with his back turned, Itachi had multitude of options. Stabbing, breaking his neck, a silenced gun, or he could get brave and use his body’s natural weapon: his tongue. Often, though, he would have preferred to save that for the ship’s ‘boss,’ but as that boss was Madara, he supposed a medic was a good replacement. 

Before he could take more than a step inside, the man turned. He was wearing a white lab coat, stereotypical of someone in his position, but with his matching white spacesuit sitting off to the side in a folded pile. Normally it was protocol to put on the suit when the ship was in flight, but this guy seemed to be tempting fate by disobeying rules. More surprising, Itachi found not a human before him, but a blue alien – a species that had formed an alliance with the humans a few years ago. They were uncommon to see the on these ships as they often preferred to be on their own. Mingling with humans was normally kept to just trade or council meetings, not comradery within a traveling vessel. 

“Mr. Itachi,” the man greeted him with a toothy grin, sharing the trait of sharp fangs with Itachi’s species and not even knowing it. “I suppose you’re here to do your rounds since the lights went out.”

Ah, this one must be very thorough to know everyone’s names on the ship. Most merely referred to each other by the color of their suits. Then again, Itachi was just as observant of those he boarded a ship with. “Kisame,” he greeted in a monotoned voice, annoyed that his chance for stealth went out the window. “Has anyone come to check on you aside from me?”

“Nah,” he answered with a shrug, “Not many people remember to check on the one person who could essentially save their lives.”

“You think something might happen?”

“Sure, anything could. It’s dark and there are sharp pointy objects around. Who knows what idiot might decide to run with scissors in the dark? Not to mention people get skittish so quickly and think that there’s an imposter on the ship if one little thing happens. They start pointing fingers and the next thing you know we’re floating an innocent.”

Itachi moved in closer and sat down on one of the beds, “What if there _is_ an imposter?”

Kisame quirked an eyebrow at him with a ‘heh’ before he wiggled a finger his direction, “Careful there, that’s a pretty sus question. Are you trying to give me goosebumps?”

Oh, the look on his face if he realized that he actually _was_ talking to an imposter. Not only that, but there were _three_ of them on the ship. One of the crew had already reported to Itachi that Madara and Obito were stuck in a room, and Itachi had thanked him by stuffing his mutilated corpse into a box in the storage room. When his friend had come to check on him, most likely to do the whole ‘buddy system’ these creatures were taught to do in emergencies, Itachi been polite enough to squish him into a matching box. Later, when the ship was clear, he’d eject them both into space. 

Poetry.

Itachi pulled off his own helmet, thankful for the rush of fresh air it provided. He always felt these things were far too smothering for his liking. He could just imagine the other two of his clan had already taken theirs off and were enjoying a good rest while he did all the work.

That was fine. This was his test anyway.

As he set the helmet down and turned his attention back to the medic, he was greeted with widened eyes and a more interested smile. Had he missed some blood on his face?

“I got to say, your official photo doesn’t do you justice, Mr. Itachi.”

Was that…a compliment?

He blinked, not having encountered that before. At least not while on a mission. Usually, people starting to freak out when the crew went missing or the lights went out. Had Kisame not been keeping up with recent events? Was no one keeping him in the loop? Perhaps Obito’s knock out of communications also affected the way the crew shared information. Guess that made sense since Kisame mentioned no one had come to check on him.

Still, Itachi was feeling generous to someone who had given him his first compliment. Though, he was still had to die in order for Itachi to complete his test. Now Kisame was going to die last.

“Just Itachi is fine,” he told the medic. “And I don’t mean to alarm you, but I haven’t received a report from some of our crew. I’m sure it’s because power is out, but to be safe, lock the door behind me and answer to no one else.”

Kisame’s head tilted slightly and it reminded him of a curious dog. “What if someone comes to me and they’re hurt?”

“I’ll bring them to you. Don’t worry, I’m a lot stronger than I look. And, as you said, you’re the only one who can save someone on this ship. If you’re gone, what hope do the rest of us have?”

The blue alien didn’t seem to agree with that way of thinking, yet he nodded all the same. “If you say so. But if the captain comes knocking, I won’t be able to refuse an order from him. Be sure to let me know when it’s all clear, okay? I don’t get a lot of views in my med bay, so I like to keep the door open so I can see through the window across the hall.”

Itachi couldn’t blame him. Had he not grown up in space all his life, he would have been a little claustrophobic too. “Very well.”

He retrieved his helmet once more and made for the door when Kisame called after him, “Be safe, Itachi! You’re a crew member we can’t afford to lose either.”

How very kind of him. Really, far too kind for someone who was going to die in less than an hour. Itachi nodded to him and vanished back into the hall. 

His next step might be the O2 lab as that would technically knock out the rest of them. If he decided to go that route, that is. While Itachi’s species was capable of circulating oxygen through their bodies like most other aliens, it wasn’t necessary. They could circulate other natural gasses for their bodily needs; it just happened that oxygen worked best. However, if he were to wreck the lab and throw the oxygen on the ship off balance…it could knock the last 5 crew members out without an issue. 

Itachi broke right out of Kisame’s room and through the cafeteria, careful of all the tables. With his eyesight he could see well enough in the dark, but it was easier to blend in to the other crew by letting the light from his belt illuminate his path. From the intel Madara had provided, they were many hours away from the port they were meant to be going to. If he could wrap this up soon, they could simply veer away and go home. It’s a shame they couldn’t do that now, but that would rouse suspicion and he didn’t exactly have the help of the other two.

That was fine, he was more than ready to perform solo missions. Everyone knew it, but he was still obligated to perform a mission on his own in the eyes of a respected peer, and his leaders had decided Madara would be that peer. That suited Itachi just fine. With someone like Madara paying attention to his progress, no one would even doubt his qualities. 

But then, people had thought the same for Obito. When his fellow student was younger, he showed so much promise and was well-respected amongst many. One day he had come home and reported a failure. In their culture, failure was – in some cases – worse than death. No one quite knew the details behind it, and Obito always got furious when asked about it. Itachi had only been curious so he didn’t repeat the same mistake. 

Don’t miss. That’s what Obito had said. Their missions required close combat for kills, so how had Obito missed?

Whatever, it wasn’t a mistake that Itachi planned to repeat. 

He came into the weapon’s room a moment later, shrinking back slightly when he realized that their weapon’s operator, Raido, was accompanied by O2 lab specialist, Mizuki. From the reports, Mizuki was a coward whose only use was making sure the O2 machines were still up and running. Otherwise, he was about as useful as a doorknob. It’s no wonder he went running to the man with all the guns. 

And it was those guns that were the ultimate prize. 

“Gentlemen,” he greeted, alerting them of his presence. “You two doing okay?”

“Fine,” Raido answered in an annoyed voice, glaring towards Mizuki’s direction. “But I think Velcro over there is about to piss his pants.”

Mizuki huffed, crossing his arms from the seat he had likely been told to occupy in order to stay out of Raido’s way. “I told you I know what I heard.” He turned to Itachi, “There’s something in the vents, I swear it. I heard whispers.”

Raido rolled his eyes, “The vents are connected to tons of rooms, you idiot, it’s natural to hear voices coming out of it. It’s when you see something popping out that you need to worry.”

“But they weren’t _voices_ ,” Mizuki argued, “They were…moans of some sort. I swear, it sounded like someone getting attacked.”

Attacked? Not likely. Itachi had been sure to kill Izumo and Kotetsu far from the vents to avoid such a possibility. It was basic training as an imposter. Take out vocal cords, avoid populated areas, swift kills, hide the body to avoid suspicion if you had the time. Plus, Madara and Obito were strictly staying out of his way unless someone deliberately came across them. As both were stuck in communications, likely discussing the good old days, it was doubtful that they were making any noise at all. 

“I haven’t heard nor seen anything, and I’ve already checked the back of _The Skeld_.” Itachi assured him, “Kotetsu is already working on restoring the power, but it looks like there was a misfunction caused by faulty wiring. It’s suspected that it was bad even before takeoff. I assure you, there isn’t anything to worry about.”

Raido put down a tool he’d been using to dig into his gunner’s chair. From what Itachi could tell, he was adjusting the height. “See, I told you it was your imagination.”

“I know what I heard,” Mizuki muttered, stubbornly clinging to his own fears. 

Seemed like he was the type that needed to be assured by someone stronger than him. Itachi turned his voice soft, playing the nice security guard. “I’m happy to check it for you if will help ease your nerves. Would you show me where you heard it from?”

“From my room. We’ll prove you wrong, Raido, just you wait. Keep your alert button handy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raido shooed him away with a wave of his hand and added to Itachi, “I’ll be over in a moment to watch you rub it in his face. After listening to him bitch about this for the past thirty minutes, I could do with a big ‘I told you so’ thrown in his face.”

Itachi gave a friendly and passive laugh while Mizuki made an obscene gesture from behind him. Raido returned it in kind and Itachi was quick to dispel the increasing interaction by guiding Mizuki out. He made a show of shutting the door and locking it just in case, so that Raido wouldn’t suspect him of being too lax about an accusation about imposters. They could joke all they wanted about how they weren’t scared, but it was something to be taken seriously until proven otherwise. 

Mizuki guided him down the hall and pushed open the door. It must have already been opened when the power fell and Mizuki had pushed it to appear closed and locked. Smart. Too bad now he seemed like a coward again as he spilled a story about being on his own, reading a good book, when he heard something coming from the vents. He’d assumed it was nothing until he heard something burst out, like a yell, and went running for Raido. The closest man who could pose a threat. 

Itachi took a good look around the room, never having been in it before. There was a vent, sure, but was smaller than the ones the Uchiha preferred to crawl through. The vent here was all the ship could afford between all the other pipes of O2 that were taking up most of the wall space. 

He took a chair and climbed up, pretending to listen as he put his ear to the vent. There was some rustling, but that could just be air circulating through. No voices or moans or anything. 

“Whatever you heard, it’s not there anymore. Perhaps someone just had their television on too loud.”

“What could they possibly be watching that has so much moaning in it?!” Mizuki argued with him. 

Itachi shrugged, getting off the chair and putting it neatly back under the desk. “Porn, maybe. It’s a long trip with an all-male crew. Someone could be lonely, and I won’t fault them for distracting themselves on their down time. Did you hear it again when the power went off?”

“Well…no…” Mizuki frowned, believing the lie easily. “I guess not…”

“Then no harm done. Is there anything else you’d like for me to check?”

“Actually, yes. I noticed some interesting things stored away- you know what, just let me show you. I think someone’s stowing away black-market goods.”

Itachi couldn’t care less if there was. The Uchiha’s were going to turn this ship into a giant pile of scrap metal soon enough, and anything stowed away was either going to be an added bonus or added to the junk pile. 

As soon as Mizuki walked by him, completely relaxed and unaware of the danger, Itachi slipped his knife from the sheath on his hip. He reached around quickly, throwing one hand over Mizuki’s mouth and burying the knife into his throat. All cries were turned into a smothered garble, the only sounds being the man choking on his own blood and wildly grabbing at Itachi’s arms in panic. Good, the more he went into the frenzy, the quicker he’d bleed out. A gun here was too dangerous as it could bust one of the machines. Itachi wouldn’t mind taking the O2 out, but he wasn’t interesting in possibly blowing the ship up. 

His suit grew warm as blood sprayed into his arms, dripping down to drench his body. So much for keeping himself clean after changing. The scientist’s heartbeat pulsated through the knife, bringing with it more sticky liquid that flowed like a busted pipe. In his mind, he imagined the panicked expression, the complete and utter betrayal before his body slumped. Gone was the personality and intelligence of a sentient lifeform and left behind now was a useless pile of meat.  
As Obito so lovingly called them: sheep for slaughter.

Itachi guided Mizuki’s body to the lean against the first obvious O2 producing tank, thankful he wasn’t too heavy, and used the unstained parts of the Mizuki’s clothes to clean off his own spacesuit. He was really beginning to wonder why he bothered changing in the first place. It was hard not getting so much blood on you, but this time he couldn’t quite help it.

Now for the waiting game. Itachi tucked himself into the wall by the door, letting himself unwind and prepare for the next kill. This one was going to come right into his hands, but Raido was a little stronger than Mizuki. More of a fighter. 

Licking his bottom lip, Itachi removed his helmet and set it on a nearby desk. He adjusted the knife a few times in his hand, debating on how to slice Raido to end his life quickly. Across the jugular, through his chest? There were many options, but he would need to be fast. If Raido alerted the remaining crew, it would be Itachi vs four of the crew. As confident as he was in his skills, Itachi didn’t want to deal with so many at once. And chasing scurrying mice wasn’t on his wish list today.

His wait wasn’t long, and he heard the sound of the door being pulled open to once more. 

“The hell?!” Raido showed his intelligence as well by rushing into the room, running for Mizuki as if to see if he was still alive. What a fool. Mizuki was drenched in his own filth; there was no way anyone would be alive after that. 

What a perfect opportunity. 

Acting on speed, Itachi let the knife fall from his hands and reached forward to hook his arms around Raido’s, yanking him back from reaching for his emergency button. Now that his helmet was removed, he was able to use his tongue to pierce the man’s heart, tasting his surprise and adrenaline. Feeling Raido’s lifeforce become spastic and wild as he tried to figure out what just happened, then the slow realization that the hole in his chest was to be the end of him. Itachi noticed before, but it always tasted different once an enemy’s body went into fight or flight mode. A certain tang to the natural bitterness of their iron rich blood. 

He retracted his tongue while he locked his hands together, forcing Raido’s arms into a hold where he couldn’t reach for anything. Forcing the man to bleed out against him just like Mizuki had. Poor fool should have been better prepared. Wasn’t he the weapon’s expert? 

“You-!” Raido gasped out, coughing past the pain in his chest. Perhaps Itachi should have punctured a lung as well to keep him from talking. “You’re-!”

“Me,” Itachi confirmed politely, grinning slightly and flashing fangs so Raido could see it in the reflection of the tanks. “How could the man with all the guns be so unprepared to fight?”

“You bastard,” Raido snarled at him even as his body grew weak. More of his weight was being surrendered to Itachi’s hold. “What are you people even after?”

Itachi dipped his head against Raido’s neck, “There’s no reason for me to tell a dead man.”

He bit harshly into the delicate skin that Raido had so foolishly exposed, pulling and ripping until Raido was gargling just as Mizuki had. His face warmed as Raido’s blood poured past his lips and dripped down his chin. Itachi held on until the man went limp and silent, his heart ceasing to pulse. Another one down. Another body sacrificed for the sake of his mission. 

Raido’s body collapsed atop Mizuki’s, piling them like the useless ragdolls they were. Limbs falling into uncomfortable, unnatural angles and their faces twisted into equal measure of fear and pain as they realized their fates were inevitable within their last moments of life. He wondered what their blank eyes saw in death or if they were just black like the rest of the galaxy. Like little black holes. 

Lifting his hand to his face, he wiped at his chin to deflect the scarlet drops from getting too far inside his uniform. The last thing he wanted was for it to soak too far into his clothes. He needed to stop by the bathroom in Raido’s room to clean his face off before he found his next target. 

Time to cut this room off from public eye. Itachi backtracked into hall after retrieving his knife and helmet, replacing both to his person. Then he began shoving the door closed again, falling into the same mindset that the rest of his kind did during moments like this. He wished he was naturally stronger to fully close it. At the very least, keep the door from appearing unlocked. Oh well. 

“What’s going on?”

Fuck!

Itachi looked up quickly to see Hayate, their cook, staring at him with widened eyes. Their security guard, bloody, covering up evidence. He must have come through Raido’s weapons room when Itachi wasn’t paying attention. Obito’s words ran through his mind. Keep your head on a swivel. Damn!

“I just found them-,”

“You!” Hayate’s hands flew to his suit in a frantic attempt to search for his emergency button. Luck must be on Itachi’s side because a heartbeat later, Hayate’s eyes went wide in fear and surprise, and he bolted back the way he came. It must be back in the kitchen, he realized. 

Leaving the door as it was, Itachi pursued him quickly. He had to jump over chairs that Hayate knocked over, papers that littered the floor like a tripping hazard, and climb through the serving window when Hayate managed to get the door closed in time. Unfortunately for their ship’s cook, there were just too many ways of getting into the kitchen that he couldn’t guard against. 

Itachi leaped over the center stove of boiling oil that their cook must have been preparing and reached for him as Hayate struggled with the door to his back office. Then, unexpectedly, Hayate wheeled on him with a serrated blade from a kitchen knife set. Unable to dodge in mid lunge, Itachi suffered a slice across his abdomen. It wasn’t as deep as it could have been thanks to the blade needing to cut through his space suit _and_ his shirt, but it still drew enough blood to sting. 

Damn it, he wasn’t going to be able to win one-on-one. First rule of being an imposter, his kills had to be stealthy and quick! This was going all wrong. 

He stumbled back into the stoves, clutching his new wound. “Hayate, you have the wrong idea.”

“Oh, do I?” Hayate countered, jiggling his door handle again – somehow, he had forgotten how to grip it in his horrified state. “Why were you covering up those dead bodies? Why is there blood all over your face?!”

Itachi pressed his stomach more, feeling the sting turn into a bite. “One of them was the imposter and he took my wepaons. I fought with what I could. There might be more, so I hid the evidence of our fight so I didn’t alert any potential partners it might have had.”

“W-Wait, really?” He calmed a degree, falling for it. Were all the members of this crew so damn stupid? “But hang on, that doesn’t make sense. Why chase m-,”

Reacting quickly, Itachi grabbed the handle of the hot oil and threw it at Hayate. Oil and hot metal hit him, causing him to flail backwards in pain. Giving him no time to spare, Itachi unbolted his gun and fired a single shot into his head. Just enough time for Hayate to meet his eyes and fall, crumpling to the floor. Thanks to the silencer on his gun, no one else would have heard that unless they were in the same room. Still, Itachi swept the area and peeked through he serving window to ensure no one else had happened to walk by at the same time. 

Itachi leaned back, breathing heavy, observing his own injury as it leaked into his clothes. Well, so much for not having blood all over him. At least he bled red just like his enemies, but if anyone were to do a DNA test on him, they’d find a few things that didn’t quite belong. 

“Damn it,” he cursed his luck, moving quick to unlock Hayate’s office with his master key and shove the man inside. He made quick work of the floor with a mop and turned off the boiling oil, so he didn’t cause a fire. Why Hayate would leave it alone in the first place was a mystery. Seriously, where did they find these people? Madara must have selected them well in advance for their stupidity so they would make easy targets.

Yeah, easy targets that still managed to put a nice cut into his stomach. 

He needed to learn where the last one was before anyone else decided to make his job more difficult. Kisame would obey him, something in Itachi’s gut told him that much, but the last – Aoba – was the shield’s operator. Right now, it was likely he was in the reactor room, ensuring that the ship wasn’t about to have some sort of nuclear meltdown in the midst of a power outage. That was a whole other energy source that Itachi wanted nothing to do with. 

He stuffed some napkins in his clothing to absorb some of the blood flow then overlapped it in plastic wrap. From there, he washed his face in the sink, so it looked less like he took a bite into the bloodiest steak on the ship. He could pass off the crew’s blood as his own, twisting some story on how he survived an imposter’s attack. After making himself as presentable as possible, Itachi made his way starboard to check on his allies. If an emergency meeting was called, he would need them. If the worst came, he’d need their support to kill off the remaining crew. 

He didn’t want that. This was _his_ mission. He wanted it to be his victory alone. There were too many expectations riding on his shoulders for him to screw up now. 

He checked the shield’s room first, confirming Aoba’s absence, before going next door to communications. He knocked once before calling out to his clan. “Madara, Obito, it’s me.”

There was silence for a moment, making him wonder if he had interrupted an important conversation. Madara was a legend and Obito was one of the best soldiers. It wasn’t entirely unreasonable that they might be sharing their work experiences or information that was more classified than Itachi’s current status would allow. Then Madara’s voice came, “Go on, Itachi.” 

Itachi felt his back straighten before he remembered that it was unnecessary. Not to mention, it pulled on his wound. He fell into a more relaxed lean against the wall next to the door. “Two of seven remain. I know where one is, but the other is might still be wandering. How are you two faring?” 

“We’re getting by. I notice no one has called an emergency meeting.”

“Yes,” Itachi agreed, opting to not tell them about his little blunder. “I have been careful. I imagine in thirty minutes or less, we’ll be ready for the final stage.”

“Good work. Once you have completed your tasks, restore the power and meet us in the storage room. We’ll make quick work of cleaning everything at once.”

“Understood.” 

He left them alone again and traveled towards the reactor. It would be at the end of the ship near the engines and ironically near Itachi’s office for security. Then he’d just get Kisame to patch him up before killing him and restoring the power. Simple. In theory at least.

The doors to the reactor were already open when he got there. Itachi leaned into the wall and peaked around the corner, catching Aoba laying on the ground and reaching into some vents for some wiring. It was a natural thing for an imposter to sabotage part of the ship to distract the crew, but he hadn’t been in this room yet. Was Aoba just being overly prepared?

Whatever. Itachi was done with this whole ordeal. He just wanted Aoba dead, he wanted his stomach patched, and he wanted a fucking nap. 

Itachi slipped his knife into his hand and walked with purpose into the room, going quickly so that by the time Aoba registered his footsteps, it would be too late. As planned, he imbedded the knife deep into the crew member’s spine then pulled back and stabbed him again, puncturing a lung and listening to the wheeze of air leaving the man’s chest.

Overcome with the annoyance of letting himself be injured, Itachi stabbed him again and again, working him open and allowing the floor to become drenched. It wasn’t until Aoba’s body looked like it had gone through a meat grinder that Itachi felt satisfied enough to stop. One more person. 

Walking through the halls now felt like eternity. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and parts of his body cold with dried blood. The only warm spot was the throbbing pain clenched under his hand. Madara and Obito shouldn’t be kept waiting or they might start suspecting that he’d been killed off. 

His feet stopped outside the medic’s door and he offered two quick knocks, “Kisame, it’s me.”

He could hear that same wheeled stool pitch a high squeak as Kisame got up and a moment later the door opened. He expected Kisame to take in his appearance and flee or fight, just like everyone else had done, but instead Itachi was frozen by a face of concern.

“Fucking hell, what happened?” Kisame took his arm and put a hand at his back, guiding him inside to the closest bed to sit. Concern? He wasn’t suspicious at all?

The alien barely stopped by to slam the lock door button before grabbing a toolkit from one of his cabinets and returning. 

“Seems there was an imposter after all,” Itachi lied smoothly, watching warily as Kisame picked up a pair of scissors. He helped Itachi remove most of his spacesuit before cutting away at the bottom. Then he did the same to Itachi’s shirt, so he didn’t have to cause further pain by trying to take it off himself. 

“Looks like he tried to take a piece of you with him,” Kisame remarked, cutting through the temporary wrappings Itachi had made and inspecting the wound. “How dizzy are you right now?”

“Mostly in pain,” he admitted, accepting the gauze placed against him and holding it while Kisame dug into his kit. “I don’t think I lost that much blood.”

Kisame gave a laugh and looked up at him with humor in his eyes. “I assume all this blood belongs to the imposter then, huh? Who was it by the way?”

“Aoba. I just found him in the reactor room.”

“I see. Well, hang on a moment and I can get some painkillers for you.”

“No,” Itachi said quickly, “Just sew it up. We have too much work to do and I don’t want to be drowsy for it.”

Kisame paused, “We?”

Shit, he’d been thinking about the other two. “Yes,” he continued, “You and I need to get the power up and contact the others. Unless you know how to pilot this thing.”

That pacified him and he shook his head. “No, you’re right. Lean back, I’ll get this fixed for you.”

Itachi did as he was told, setting the bed into a sitting position and leaning back into the reclined mattress. Kisame laid out all the parts he’d needed, the curved needle, the gauze, the thread, the healing salve, and some medical tape. Then he put on gloves and set to work, careful to watch Itachi’s reactions in case it was too much to bear. 

After everything, this was miniscule. Itachi relaxed, flinching only when he felt the needling curl through his skin, and took in the sight of the room. It was incredibly dull. Mostly white and metal, smelling of medical supplies and chemicals. Might as well be a room to house the insane people. All you’d need were some pads and straight jackets. 

“How can you stand it here?” Itachi wondered aloud, frowning. This felt so claustrophobic. 

Kisame chuckled a little, “That’s why I told you I like to keep the door open so I can see a window. However, now that you’re here, the view has gotten incredibly better.”

Again, with these strange compliments. “Quite a thing to say to someone with blood all over them, Kisame.”

“Ah,” the man snipped the access thread away and put the gauze on top, “True, but I was saying such things before you had blood on you too.”

“Why?”

“Is it making you uncomfortable?”

Not really, it was making him feel even warmer than being in pain did. How strange. Kisame hadn’t been the first to compliment him before. It must be this entire situation and environment. 

“No,” he answered, relaxing back again as Kisame applied the tape. 

Once finished, Kisame reached into a nearby cabinet and pulled out a white shirt, white like everything else in the room, and tossed it over to Itachi’s bed. “It’s one of mine, so it might be a little big. Give me a moment, I’ll get a rag.”

One of his?

Curious, Itachi reached for the shirt and brought it closer to his face, breathing in the smell of salt and something else he couldn’t identify. The ocean perhaps? Either way, it was much more preferable than the rest of the room with all its chemicals and the blood on his own person. 

Kisame squeaked his stool over and took the liberty of cleaning Itachi on his own, dragging the wet cloth over his body. It was comfortably warm, relieving as it cleaned away everything that had been sticking to him. Sweat, blood, the tears of those who were cowardly in death, and the gross, recycled air of the ship. He allowed the medic to pamper him, leaving only to clean the rag off and returning to continue. All while Itachi clutched the shirt close to his face to use Kisame’s natural smell to mask the rest of the room.

“So,” Kisame began casually, moving to Itachi’s neck where Raido and Mizuki’s blood was the worst. “I suppose I’m the last one, eh?”

Itachi frowned at him, fingers twitching under the shirt towards his hip, ready to reach for one of his weapons in a split second. “What do you mean?”

The alien smirked knowingly, looking up through his lashes at Itachi. Completely unafraid of him and calm in the face of his own killer. “This isn’t an imposter wound, it was made by a serrated edge. I imagine a kitchen knife, considering I saw you chasing Hayate there a while ago.”

He’d been seen?

Every inch of Itachi went stiff, wired to attack at a moment’s notice. “What were you doing outside your room?”

“I needed to stretch my legs, and I had only planned on going down the hall.”

“If you saw me,” he said carefully, “Why not turn me in?”

“To whom?” his enemy answered with a shrug, moving the rag between his collarbones. There was no pressure behind his touch, no sign of him about to attack. “It had been a while since you told me to lock my door. I imagine that’s plenty of time for you to take out the rest of the crew. Besides, the captain hasn’t shown up at all either.”

“So, your plan is to heal your enemy and let him kill you?” Itachi asked him, not being able to rationalize his intentions. “An unusual choice of death.”

Kisame pulled the rag away, setting it on the bedside table and answering in earnest, “You left me alive when you could have easily killed me with no one knowing the wiser. I figured I might have a chance to convince you to keep me a little longer.”

Well, there was no point in beating around the bush anymore. 

Itachi pushed himself off the bed, twisting to kick his legs off the bed so he could sit straight. He needed to be in a better position if Kisame decided to start fighting back. “It’s not up to me.”

“There are others?”

“The captain and the communications officer are of my clan. Even if I let you free, they will finish you off regardless.”

Kisame hummed, standing up. It was really only then that Itachi realized how much the medic towered over him. In another life, Kisame would make a brilliant warrior. He looked as if he possessed the strength that those of Itachi’s clan wished they had. A species built on power, not stealth. Quite literally, he could be Itachi’s opposite. 

The other man leaned forward, forcing Itachi back on his elbows so he could linger over him. Even like this, Itachi could kill him easily. Kisame was unarmed and had no killer aura about him. This was…seduction?

“Then don’t let me free,” Kisame offered, his voice had dropped to a new octave. It made Itachi look at him with new attention. “I could be your servant, if you want. You go out, do whatever imposters do, and I’ll patch you up when you get home.”

Again, such a _strange_ attitude for someone who was going to be dead soon. Why would Itachi waste his time trying to save the life of one crew member? Especially on a trial that was meant to test his abilities in killing them all. If he accepted this, Madara would consider it a failure and Obito would be pissed that Itachi ruined his chances of reinstatement. 

Yet his target was not giving up. He took Itachi’s hips in hand, lowering his body to press lightly against him and careful of his injury. Kisame pressed his lips to Itachi’s chest, kissing skin that still had traces of blood on it. “I can be very convincing if you let me.”

Was Kisame of the Hatake clan? They were killers that focused on seduction before assassination rather than sneak attacks. No, according to Madara’s report, Kisame’s surname was Hoshigaki. Itachi was too unfamiliar with their species to know how they worked. 

“I told you, it’s not up to me.” Itachi told him even as he allowed this. Part of him was curious, more curious than he ought to be. 

Kisame was not going to be denied. “You don’t have to tell them,” he suggested, leading a trail down Itachi’s chest. “I could just be your secret.”

“And what would I tell them?”

“That you shot my body out of the ship.” He avoided Itachi’s wound as he moved down his abs. “Put me in your room for the remainder of the trip.”

“They’d find you.” Madara was nothing if not thorough. Not to mention, as soon as they were back on their mothership there would be a full scan. Kisame would not get by unnoticed. “This only ends one way for you, Kisame. I can make your death quick and painless, unlike the rest of the crew. That is the only mercy I offer.”

Kisame sighed and let his forehead rest on Itachi’s left hipbone. “Well, I’m not going to beg for my life. If there’s no way around it, then I guess that’s it. But,” he looked up at Itachi, a friendly smile curving his lips, “Perhaps you’ll indulge me by granting a last request?”

Now he was asking for something? “What?”

The alarming rate that Kisame moved up his body had Itachi pulling the knife and holding it up in defense. It met Kisame’s throat in seconds, pressing hard enough for a thin red line to develop and a single drop of his blood to slide down the blade, but not enough for any sort of lasting damage. All the while, that grin never left the man’s face. Was he a medic? No, he was a psychopath. 

“I want to know what it’s like to have sex with an imposter.” Kisame told him honestly. “It’s always been one of my wildest dreams, having my way with one of your kind. You are all known for taking down a giant ship and doing it solo. Now that I have one of you close at hand, and you are beautiful beyond what I had thought you would be, all I can think about is how much I want to be inside you.”

It was flattering just as much as it was weird. Itachi frowned, unsure which side of the spectrum he fell on. “I have a knife to your throat.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I already told you that your death is unavoidable.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I can picture five different ways to kill you right now.”

“And I can picture five different ways of making you call out my name in ecstasy,” Kisame countered. His grip on Itachi’s hips tightened and he jerked him forward, pressing them flush together so Itachi could _feel_ just how serious he was. “Let me have you how I want, and you can kill me off when we’re done. What have you got to lose in this situation?”

Itachi just blinked at him, realizing that this wasn’t a joke or way of trying to convince him to change his mind. Kisame was just a horny, dead bastard who didn’t seem to care for his life one way or another. Did people like that even exist? Yet as he glanced down at where their bodies were rubbing against each other, his very attentive appendage rousing Itachi’s, he realized there must be. 

Yet in the midst of his body being encouraged, Itachi realized one thing. He’d never been with someone like this. Rather, he’d never been with another _male_ creature. If he combined his experience with what he enjoyed with female partners versus how he got himself off, he could pretty much figure it out. Adding that to Kisame’s pushy nature and words, it was obvious what role this alien wanted. 

His mind went to Madara and Obito who were waiting on his mission to be complete. Although to be fair, he told them thirty minutes or so and it hadn’t taken that long to murder Aoba. They had time, but not a lot. 

“You have ten minutes,” Itachi decided. 

Kisame’s grin increased, biting his lower lip as he looked over Itachi’s body with unbridled excitement. “An hour.”

Did he think this was a negotiation? “Twenty, and not a minute more. That’s all the time I can spare for your request, and then I have a mission to complete.”

“Twenty minutes,” Kisame groaned in a childish tantrum. “I guess we better get started then.” 

With an aggression that went against his previous gentle bedside manner, Kisame basically pulled Itachi into his lap and stood up. What strength; he was carrying Itachi like he was lifting nothing more than a child. Their faces were too close, their noses practically touching, and Itachi balanced himself by putting his grip on Kisame’s shoulders. 

Then, gently enough to not jolt his wound, Kisame took him to another bed nearby that was already lying flat. Apparently, he didn’t want to wait for the machine to adjust the previous one, and who cared how many beds they ruined at this point. He had Itachi on his back and was crawling on top of him in seconds, kissing and nipping at his neck. 

What sort of alien was Kisame? Did he ingest blood? Feed off emotions? Was he going to wait until Itachi was in the throes of passion to kill him? Itachi gripped the knife tighter in his hand, still refusing to let go even has Kisame moved up his chin. He was trailing closer to his lips, but Itachi turned away and refused him that privilege. They were not his to claim; they were not that familiar. Kisame could pleasure his body if he wished, but any attempt at intimacy was going to be met with pain. 

Thankfully, Kisame got the picture quick and moved back down. He followed a similar trail from earlier, sinking closer to where Itachi’s spacesuit still covered his sweatpants, and another thought occurred. All the weaponry. 

“Stop,” Itachi demanded, shoving him off. 

The medic obeyed but not without a frown. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”

Such a one-track mind, this one had. Itachi would have laughed at how foolish he sounded, but he was still trying to figure out if Kisame had ulterior motives. Eyeing him for any movements, Itachi shoved him off and went to disarm himself. He put his gun on a nearby table, the knife next to it, the cuffs, the taser, and all other utilities off his belt. Then he lifted his hips and let Kisame pull the remainder of the suit off and detach his shoes. As Kisame crawled back on top of him, eager like some child on their birthday, Itachi’s stomach gave a strange twist. Why did he look so adorable when he was getting what he wanted? Was he not afraid of his impending doom? Was Itachi really just that desirable?

Kisame allowed him only a moment to linger in his thoughts before he took Itachi’s waistband and yanked them down without reserve. All at once, Itachi was laid bare for his eyes while Kisame remained fully clothed. How was that for a change of events? Itachi, the imposter, the one who just got finished annihilating six other crew members, was now utterly exposed to his enemy. 

And yet Kisame was the one at his mercy. 

Dark eyes trailed over him like they were trying to figure out what part to touch first. What area to taste, what technique to try; there were so many options he could choose from. Itachi faintly lamented that there was only time for so much. 

He opted to help the poor medic decide where to go first, stretching his legs out to bracket Kisame’s waist and exposing his more private area for his eyes to focus on. “Eighteen minutes.”

The other man gave a breathy chuckle, “I can’t believe you’re actually counting.”

Of course, he was. Itachi was nothing if not punctual and exact. “Hurry up or you’ll be dead before I’m satisfied.”

That he really did laugh at. Kisame moved a little closer, giving him a teasing nip to his abs. “Shouldn’t it be _me_ who’s satisfied before I die?”

“Seventeen minutes.”

“Ah, you’re such a bully, Mr. Itachi. Fine, have it your way. Hand me that pillow behind you.”

He obeyed, letting Kisame fold it to push it behind Itachi’s lower back. Then Kisame settled himself between Itachi’s legs and wasted no more time getting to work. There was no easing down on him, Kisame took Itachi’s entire length and swallowed it down. 

Fuck, he hadn’t been expecting _that_. Normally there was more reserve here, a lot more licking and sucking before just straight deep throating. 

Itachi moaned as heat flooded between his legs and let his body fall back, basking in the treatment. However, he refused to look away. He kept himself propped up just enough to watch that mouth work his cock and take in a view he saw as absolutely beautiful. Kisame’s lips soon became slick with precum and spit, he sucked hard at Itachi’s tip before teasing his tongue over the crown and smirking up at him, then taking him in with a deep moan that sent vibrations and chills through Itachi’s body. 

Kisame was brilliant at giving blowjobs. Itachi had to give him that at least. He was noisy with his pleasure, obvious with how much he enjoyed Itachi’s taste, greedy in how he fondled tender areas while swallowing whatever Itachi’s body gave him. It was going to be such a shame that someone with his skills was going to be dead soon, just as lifeless as all the other crew. How was Itachi even going to do it? Knife, gun, strangulation? Perhaps he’d use Kisame’s own medical drugs to induce sleep before killing him. That would be a mercy. 

“Stop it,” Kisame suddenly pulled back to scold him, replacing his lips with his hand. 

Itachi inhaled deep before answered, still in a daydreaming-like state. He was really enjoying what this man was doing to him. “Stop what?”

Kisame licked at the leakage near his tip before he answered, “Stop focusing on anything else but what I’m doing to you. It’s rude.”

“What does it matter to you? You’ll be dead soon. Don’t you remember what I just told you about hurrying up? You only have-,” 

Kisame cut him up by a quick dive forward that captured his mouth. Itachi released a small noise of surprise, mainly because he was sure he clearly told Kisame ‘no’ earlier. What an asshole, denying him anyway. And worse, Itachi could taste himself when Kisame dared to invade his mouth with his tongue. That tangy taste of cum and Kisame’s own unique flavor.

Itachi bit him. 

“Ow!” the alien jerked away with a wince and a newly bleeding lip. “The hell was that for?”

“I never said you could do that,” Itachi said simply, running his tongue over the redness dripping down his cheek. He didn’t bother hiding the fact that his tongue was now longer than most, flicking across the blood like it was a tasty treat.

“What?” Kisame frowned at him, more hurt than upset. “I can’t kiss you?”

He was answered with a shake of the head. “No, and you’re running out of time.”

Really pouting, Kisame glanced down at where he was still pleasuring Itachi’s cock with his fingers and knickles. “That’s not nearly enough time. I guess I need to distract you more.”

His intention came in the form of de-clothing himself. Kisame leaned back so he could unbutton his lab coat and let it slip from his shoulders onto the floor. Next came his shirt; he grabbed one sleeve and yanked the shirt over his head in one swift movement. Oh yes, now there was a man who had an admirable body. Such toned muscle, such tight skin, no blemishes or scars. Itachi was hit by a new wave of desire to reach out and touch him.

Kisame didn’t stop there and soon his shoes, sweatpants, and all other attire was quick to fall to the floor. Next to be revealed was a nice, hard erection that was already at attention, a solid, round ass that begged to be grabbed, and a body just as muscular and fine to match the top. This time, Itachi gave in to those waves. He scooted forward, putting his hand against Kisame’s chest and rolling his touch over the divots and ridges, following the lines of different muscles meeting each other. He could imagine using this man as a giant body pillow – no, that would be such a waste of a perfect body. Itachi could imagine throwing this man down and riding him. 

Now _that_. That sounded like a great idea. 

“Lay down,” he demanded, nudging Kisame back. 

Smirking with understanding, Kisame kindly reminded him, “These beds aren’t large. I’ll fall off.”

Damn these tiny medical beds. Itachi flashed his fangs in annoyance, “I want you under me, you sheep.”

The other man responded with a chuckle and by pulling Itachi onto his lap once more. “You’re so spirited when you want something. Don’t worry, I’ll give you all of me if that’s what you want.”

He picked Itachi up again, this time getting off the bed and sinking to the floor, doing just as he was demanded. Kisame put his back to the floor and lifted his knees so that they rested on Itachi’s back, essentially turning himself into a chair for the other man. 

“Whatever you want,” Kisame promised again, lifting his hips and grinding them against the back of Itachi’s ass. “Tell me how you want me.”

Itachi wanted to ride him; it was simple and easy to understand. Only that would take time to prepare and they were about to be out of that. Would…Would Madara mind if they went a little over? Surely, he and Obito were impatient enough with how long this was already taking. No doubt they were getting bored in that room, killing time with idle chatter, wondering what was taking Itachi such a large amount of time to kill a crew. A stupid crew. 

Whatever, Itachi could come up with an excuse later. It wasn’t like his injury wasn’t going to be the perfect alibi anyway. 

He must have waited too long to answer as Kisame was coming up with his own solution. He spat on his fingers and shoved them into Itachi, no notice at all. Two fingers pushed in all the way to his knuckles, causing Itachi to gasp and fall forward onto Kisame’s chest in response. He’d never been so violated before, so taken advantage of while his mind was elsewhere. No one had dared to be so bold. A word of warning would have been fucking nice.

“I told you,” Kisame told him in the same low, enticing voice he’d used before, “To stop focusing on anything but what I’m doing to you.”

Who the hell did he think he was? Itachi was the one in charge here, not this man. _He_ was the one that was going to murder Kisame when this was over with. Who the fuck gave him the authority to do anything but what Itachi told him to? He caught that man’s blue hair in a fist and yanked him up, biting hard above his collarbone. Razor sharp fangs sank deep, sending blood weeping past his lips and falling onto his chest. The same red blood as everyone else, only Itachi was finding he enjoyed Kisame’s taste more. It wasn’t ruined by adrenaline or fear. There was something more circulating through him that was intoxicating.

He could kill Kisame right now if he wanted to. Pull back and send one of Kisame’s major arteries sprinkling his life essence across this room and soiling the white space with red. Itachi held all the power here, he could end this all in less than a second. He should. It would let him be done with this mission and on his way home that much sooner. 

But the fingers in his ass continued to move despite the fact he knew Kisame was in pain. They pushed in and out, rubbed and curled, spread him open in a way that was both enticing and distracting. Then another hand came up to cup the back of Itachi’s head as if to encourage him not to pull away or rip him open. Easing those violent urges within Itachi that demanded his death. 

“Not yet, right?” Kisame’s voice was a whisper, much more careful. He was realizing his place now. “I still have time, don’t I?”

Only because whatever he was doing to Itachi’s asshole was beginning to feel really good now. Less intrusive and painful than it had a moment ago. 

Was he having that reaction because his body had never been breached in such a way before?

He loosened his hold on Kisame although still somewhat pleased when he saw the damage he’d done. Not so much because he’d caused the other man pain, but more because he liked the view of his mark on the man. Those were his teeth prints, and that bloody wound was like a badge of ownership. He quite liked that. 

Itachi rested a hand on Kisame’s shoulders and rolled his hips onto those invasive fingers. “For now.”

“You going to bite me again if I put a third finger in you?”

Amusement leaked into his bad attitude and he found himself smirking at the question, “Maybe.”

Kisame fed off the attention. “Well, in light of my recent death wish, I’ll have to take that chance then.”

A third digit met the other two and pushed him open more, but Itachi granted Kisame his life a few moments longer. It helped that Kisame’s other hand was back on him, pushing their dicks together and stroking them as one. He was so attentive to Itachi’s body and reactions, making sure he was feeling good even as his body was getting ready to take something it was never meant to take. 

It was fine. Two male species practicing intercourse wasn’t that unheard of, even amongst Itachi’s species. It wasn’t a way of procreation, but a way of pleasing another. Not common, but not looked down on. It _was_ , however, strange to hear of the Uchiha being taken by another species. The Uchiha were prideful aliens, always intent on subjugating others while basking in their perfect bloodlines. The only thing that warranted their hatred was a betrayal to their clan. Those offenses were met with death sentences. 

As Itachi looked down at Kisame’s handiwork on him, he felt no such desire to pull away. Kisame was a skilled man, quick to get Itachi’s body nice and hot, happy to bring him pleasure and use his words. He wasn’t pleading for his life like some weak nobody, he didn’t run like a coward, and he accepted his fate. Itachi could applaud his bravery. 

Really, killing him was going to be a shame. A really big shame. 

At the mental reminder of his decreasing time, he pushed Kisame down once more and slapped his hand away from his ass. “That’s enough.”

Kisame’s breath hitched and he waited expectantly for Itachi’s next move. “Are you going to put me inside you now?”

“Yes,” Itachi adjusted himself, reaching back in search of Kisame’s member so he could get situated. “But know once I’m pleased with your performance-,”

“-I’m dead,” Kisame nodded, unfazed. “I get it. Now come on, baby, I already know you’re going to be so tight for me. Guide me in.”

Baby? Endearments and compliments flowed from this man far too easily. There were no social restrictions with him. Did he even mean what he said?

“You’re very strange, Kisame,” Itachi told him, putting Kisame at his entrance then surrendering his weight. 

It was a tight fit; Kisame’s body was far from being small and his cock reflected his body. Itachi winced slightly and refused to give in, seeing it like a challenge and a refusal to let his body demonstrate weakness. Though, Kisame was kind to let him ease in on his own, offering a gentle touch up and down his thighs, his sides, and over his chest. 

About halfway down, Kisame moaned and his eyes flickered in the most erotic display of pleasure. “That’s it, Itachi,” he cooed, his hands tightening slightly before running over more of Itachi’s skin. It was like watching an addict get what he wanted. “You feel so tight on my cock. So, _fucking tight_. Mnn...” 

“You like it?” Itachi asked, astounded at himself for saying such a thing. He sank another inch down as his body relaxed under the sweet words of the other. 

The man blossomed under him, finding his eyes and softening in a way Itachi had never seen another person do before. “Hell yea, baby, you’re so amazing right now. So close to taking all of me.”

Amazing?

More heat filled him, but this time it went to his face. It made Itachi feel lightheaded and turned his body to mush. Biting his lip, he gave Kisame exactly what he wanted and took in the rest of that thick cock until he could feel it throbbing inside him. It wasn’t entirely clear whether the throbbing came from his aching ass or Kisame’s needy member, but it could have very well been a combination of both. 

They moaned together, taking a good minute to enjoy the full, filling moment. Itachi had never let another person enter him so deeply, but he could see the appeal now. Here was another curiosity being satisfied. After this, he was very willing to discover what positions he liked best or what angles gave him the best pleasure. 

“Itachi,” the man below him warned in a clipped tone, “I can’t hold it.”

“What?”

Kisame took hold of his body, braced his feet on the floor, and bucked up into him. His arms held Itachi’s body a little above him, giving him room to pull out just enough to thrust back inside him. 

Now this was something entirely new and welcoming. Itachi moaned his approval, digging his nails into the other man and rolling his hips to meet Kisame’s strokes. It took them no time to find a good rhythm, and in this position Itachi wasn’t bothered by his injury. In fact, he didn’t even notice it anymore. All he could pay attention to was that heavily panting, beautiful creature beneath him and the feel of that hard, desperate dick filling him over and over. 

Oh yes, he was really enjoying this. 

All thoughts of time or expectations or pressures or clans fell from his mind, replaced with how to get Kisame to hit that sweet spot inside him, how to ring out more cries of pleasure, how to better fuck this prisoner into submission. He rode the man hard, not letting him give up for even a moment. Even when Kisame took a second to readjust or find a better hold, something to brace his feet against, Itachi grinded on him like some wanton beast that had been starved for far too long.

The sounds of sex filled the room, making it seem more warm and constricting than it previously had. Only this time is was much more pleasurable. It was like the very walls were pushing them closer now; so much white in his peripheral vision that made everything seem to blur together. He lost focus on everything except for the face of Kisame who was half out of his mind with delight. 

“I’m going to cum,” Itachi warned in a panting voice he didn’t even recognize. His head fell back, tongue rolling past his lips in pure exposure of his species. “Fuck, I-I’m going-!”

“Wait for me, damn it,” Kisame flipped him, throwing Itachi onto his back and snatching his legs up. One was thrown over his shoulder and gripped tightly at his thigh, the other spread wide and forcing him to accept every bit of Kisame’s cock. 

Itachi cried out, reaching back and only finding the corner of the bed to grasp onto. His body rocked as Kisame fucked him into the floor. His pace increased and Itachi saw stars, screaming as he felt his body reach a climax he’d never discovered with anyone else. It was as if he’d become pure vibration and was only vaguely aware of Kisame still thrusting into him. Only when a pressure fell against him did he realize Kisame was filling him with his seed, grunting and whining into his neck as his body convulsed in his orgasm. 

This was new, Itachi realized. He liked this. He wanted _more_ of this. 

His body returned to him quicker as the pain in his stomach pulsed in complaint to Kisame’s weight. Any other time it would be desirable, but not right now. 

“Off,” he demanded, rolling Kisame to the side and climbing to his feet. They wobbled a little under him and he caught the bedframe for balance. He’d had sex before yet never had this reaction. Was his body not recovering as quickly as it normally did?

He noticed Kisame sit up and reach for him, almost as if to help, and he stepped away before more contact could be made. Kisame’s life was going to come to an end. This was how things were meant to be. 

Itachi pulled on his sweatpants, reached for his knife, and turned with the intention of ending it all when he froze. 

Kisame had moved to his knees, hands on his legs in a pose of a submissive servant, and the lighthearted smile gone from his face. He was just watching Itachi, serious, accepting. How could he be so accepting? Why? “You said you’d make it quick,” Kisame reminded him. 

“I did.”

“I don’t want to suffer long.”

“You won’t.”

Itachi closed the distance, taking Kisame’s hair and pulling it back. All it would take would be two quick stabs. A few seconds and Kisame’s life would end. It’d be like a small pinch and then he’d know nothing. He’d be gone like all the others.

Stab him. _Stab him_.

Kisame frowned, looking up at him. “Why are you hesitating?”

He had no fucking clue. What was he expecting? To keep Kisame like some sort of pet? He was an alien. A much stronger alien than Itachi. Right now, if he wanted to, he could disarm Itachi and change the entire situation to his favor. Why wasn’t he? Why was he giving up?

“You’re very strange,” Itachi remarked aloud for the second time. He lowered the blade to run it lightly against the red line he’s made earlier. “Do you want death?”

He noticed Kisame swallow past the knife. “Not exactly, but I realize when I have no chance here.”

“What _do_ you want?”

“Right now? To be alive. After that? Probably convince you to let me stay in your bed. You’re much better than I imagined, and I’d love to go a few more rounds.”

Itachi scowled at that, trying to push the knife deeper only to find it wouldn’t budge. There was some invisible wall getting in the way. “You’re only interested in sex.”

“And you,” Kisame elaborated. “I told you, I’ve always been interested in your species. But you, Itachi, are an enigma of your own. I’m a medic, but I also have a curiosity towards things I don’t understand. I’d love to understand you.”

While Itachi was no such medic, he shared the same wonder. Only if he indulged it, Madara would come after him or scold him as a failure. He’d be given the same treatment as Obito and he wasn’t even a full-fledged graduate yet. He needed to kill this man. He needed Kisame’s death and his body on the floor drowning in its own fluid. _Kill him_.

With a growl, he tossed the knife and embedded it into the nearby wall. Then he took hold of Kisame’s hair with both hands and yanked him up as far as he could get while Kisame still on his knees. “You’re going to do whatever I tell you to.”

Kisame’s eyes widened.

“You’re going to speak when I tell you, go where I tell you, act as I tell you, and fuck as I tell you. One step out of line and I will bathe in your entrails.”

His words made the blue alien breathless. “Yes.”

“So long as I find you useful to me, you are mine. It’s in your best interest to stay in my good graces.”

Kisame’s hands gripped his waist and he pulled Itachi closer. “Yes.”

Itachi breathed against his lips, refusing that bit of contact. It was still too intimate. “You’re going to belong to me until I’m bored of you. Your life is no longer your own, it’s _mine_.”

“Yes,” Kisame moaned his answer, surrendering to him. “Whatever you want.”

Itachi was going to figure out what made this man so strange if it killed him. And by that, he meant that he was going to discover what made Kisame unique, or he was going to leave that blue alien in the ground for the worms. “Put your clothes back on, Kisame. We have a ship to clean, my clan to release from the communications room, and a mothership to return to.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote/edited this between the family chaos of Christmas Eve and Christmas. Judge gently....ha....


End file.
